phantom X
by xmfan
Summary: Things have never been easy for the XMen, or mutants in general. But will things take a turn for better or for worse when a certain 'ghost' shows up in Bayville? XMen EvoPhantom of the Opera crossover. Title subject to change.
1. Unexpected Trip

Well, okay, I'm going to give this another shot. Please have mercy, I wasn't planning on posting this story until at least the summer, or probably some time after that. I know that it seems crazy of me to start another doggone story when I have two that I haven't even finished. I will try to do my best to get those story done. For now, I hope you'll enjoy this just as much. Okay, so it's not strictly X-Men, and you may need to know a little Phantom of the Opera to really understand this. But please, give this a fair shot. If you really think it's terrible, then I'll remove it and wait to work on it a little more, after working on those other stories first. You don't absolutely have to know Phantom in order to be able to follow the story, but it certainly would be helpful. Well, probably people who do know anything about Phantom will be reading this anyway, so I'll just shut up about that. Anyway, read, review, tell me what you think. I need feedback. I want feedback. I GOTTA HAVE IT! silence Eh- hehe, sorry about that. I'll just . . . leave you alone now. Okay, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own X-Men, don't own Phantom. Phooey.

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Erik released a heavy sigh. _Good Lord, what am I to do?_

All the lights in his home had been turned off. Dull commotion resonated through the levels above him.

_Why don't I just die already?_

He covered his face with his hands. For almost a week now he had taken in neither food nor water, and now he had laid himself down to rest. He knew his end was soon to come. And yet it didn't. Having no idea how long he had been lying in his open coffin, he could only surmise that at least half a day had passed. Maybe even a full day. External light had no way of reaching the cellars of the Opera House. There was no telling of night and day by any natural means, except to return to the surface. He usually kept a pocket watch on him, but today he was sure he wouldn't need it anymore. He could still visualize standing over the lake in his boat, the golden pendant slowly twirling above the glassy surface. Erik confessed even to himself that had anyone dared to come down to his domain at that moment, the watch's case would have been easily spotted, even in the darkness. But he was no longer concerned about that. Before long he would no longer have to deal with any of these miscreants. Perhaps they would one day find his body, but he would be long gone.

He remembered glancing at the antique one last time. It had been his mother's, a gift from her father. It was the last thing he held close to him that continued to remind him of her.

"It is finished," he had whispered softly, allowing the sacred chain to slip from his grasp. The trinket made a gentle plop before disappearing into the murky depths.

Now he had locked himself into his own house. His crypt. And what once served as a bed would now serve its ultimate purpose: the cradle of his eternal repose.

And yet the desired end did not come. He tried to be patient, but the wait seemed to be an eternity in itself. Why wouldn't this confounded corpse of a body release him?

_Why? Why must Fate be so cruel to me? Why must whatever greater power that dwells beyond our comprehension insist I suffer to the very end?_

Erik's mind could not stop buzzing with such questions. Had life not been hard enough? To be born with this hideous face, never to be loved by anyone, not even by his own mother; to have his one chance at happiness be torn away from him, giving him false hopes and dreams; had these trials not been enough?

_Apparently not,_ the 'living corpse' thought bitterly.

The commotion above did not cease. Some strange business had launched the entire opera house into a turbulent state. He only wished for the business to end so he could allow himself to sleep. Perhaps in sleep death would come faster.

He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for all to fade out. Just to let go. It seemed so easy for others. Why not for him? He _wanted_ to go. He was ready, more than any man could be.

_Perhaps that is it,_ he thought. _Perhaps God or Fate or whatever knows that I want to die, and It won't let me have my way. But It can't hold me here forever. I may not be like most mortal men, but I am mortal, and It knows that. Sooner or later my time will come._ He cracked a thin smile in spite of himself. _At least in this way, It cannot win._

Suddenly, a strange sound came from the parlor. Even though Erik had closed the door to his room tight, and the door being nearly a foot thick, he could still hear a unnatural buzzing sound. It was no insect. It sounded more like . . . some kind of machine. But no machine that the musical genius had ever encountered before. Was it those operatic denizens, those imbeciles that couldn't shut up for five minutes?

He waited several moments for the sound to stop, but it didn't. After waiting a little while longer, Erik let out a low groan and pulled himself out of his coffin. _For the love of Pete, is it always something? I swear, if it's them, I'll noose them all, even though I'm lying on my deathbed. _

He released the latch for the door and thrust it open. And he beheld a sight that left even he, the great Phantom of the Opera, completely flabbergasted.

A large ring of light was floating right in the middle of his parlor. Could he be delusional? He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The strange spectacle was still there.

Suddenly, all of his senses were on alert. His mind was drawn out of it's numbed state. Someone else was in his house.

Without a moment's hesitation, he reached for his lasso. He had intended to be buried with it, as it was his only source of protection and prized weapon. Who knew? Maybe he would need it when he went to hell. Egyptian pharaohs were often buried with objects and possessions they would need in the afterlife.

Despite the fact that he had been dying of thirst and hunger, and a third factor which he refused to recall at the moment, his body immediately went into stealth mode. He moved with fluidity, grace and agility. He was more thankful that he decided to turn off all the lights in the place, both candle-lit and electric. Darkness was one of his few allies, and his ability to see in the dark was a great downfall for his rivals.

He could now detect the sounds of the movements of the intruder, who at this time had slipped into drawing room. That was the room where Erik kept most of his paintings. He could tell just by listening that the intruder wore soft-soled shoes and was carrying a large bag. And he knew what the bag was filled with, just by looking around the room.

Erik ground his teeth. _NO one steals from the Opera Ghost!_

He snuck his way into the next room, even more softly than his uninvited guest. Despite the black attire, Erik could easily make out the shape of his man through the shadows. Every carefully and quietly, while the thief filled his bag with the rare treasures, their owner was prepared to wreak his revenge.

Suddenly, just before the noose of the lasso was thrown, the thief abruptly turned around. He had managed to put his arm up just as the noose fell around his neck.

_Dammit!_ Erik's plan had been foiled. Either the thief was the subject of dumb-luck, or he was informed as to how to defend himself from the ghost's 'magical lasso.' But Erik wasn't one to waste opportunity. With a tug of unpredicted strength, he tightened the noose around the thief's arm and neck, pressing the elbow hard against the collarbone. The tug threw the thief off balance, and distracted him from trying to free himself. His body lurched forward, and was quickly reeled in by the Phantom's strong hands. When the thief's body reached him, he firmly placed his foot on the intruder's throat.

"Come for a gift, eh? I'll give you a gift. _The gift of death_."

He began to crush the thief's forearm further against his throat, ready to choke him and break his arm. Suddenly, the thief's other hand came up and grabbed its attacker by the ankle. Erik quickly pulled his foot away and regained his balanced. He was, however, surprised by the speed of his opponent. In the small window of time it took for him to catch himself from falling and turn around, the thief had freed himself from the awful contraption and yanked at the noose end of the rope, hoping to pull the same stunt the Phantom had just did to him a moment ago.

But it was different with the Phantom. Instead of letting himself lose his balance, he used the jerk to gain momentum and throw himself at his rival. He hit the thief hard and both landed on the floor. After rolling a few times, Erik came out on top while still holding the other end of the rope tightly in his hands. As he began to drag the thief across the floor, the thief also jumped to his feet, and began to tug at the other end. The tug-o-war was getting nowhere, and Erik could see it. Then, just as each was tugging his hardest, the Phantom let go off the rope. The thief tumbled backward, letting go of the noose in the process.

Erik couldn't help but smile at his tactic as he reeled his lasso back to him. Then he realized that strange buzzing sound had returned, and was quite close to his ear. He slowly turned around.

He was standing right in front of the floating ring. A rainbow of brilliant colors radiated from the ring's middle, which burned a hot white light. Erik shielded his eyes as his glowing pupils quickly shrank, but he continued to stare at the miraculous phenomenon. He couldn't begin to imagine just exactly what this device was.

And he didn't have a chance. Erik suddenly felt himself being pushed through the ring, the bright light consuming him. It was like falling through a bottomless pit, accelerating so fast you couldn't tell how long you fell. He felt his stomach drop into his gut with dread. He didn't fear heights of any kind, but this was different. He wasn't falling from a great height. He was moving through space at an incalculable rate. His natural reaction was having his organs turned upside down. Fortunately, the experience only lasted a few moments, though at the time they seemed much longer.

Before he could think, the Phantom could feel the hard, cold ground beneath him. He barely had time to put his hands out in front to break the fall. The shock ran through both his arms into his shoulders and chest. He managed to push himself up and over, just a little, so he ended up going into a summersault. He landed flat on his back, his eyes facing toward a starry night sky.

He didn't dare move. Had this all been an illusion? Had he not fought the thief at all? Was he really . . . dead?

It took him a few moments to prop himself up. It seemed to be an alley; a dark cold one at that.

_Well, if this is hell, it's not quite as bad as I thought._

The thought barely passed through his mind when something hit him on the back. He was launched forward a little, but he managed to catch himself with his hands, then push himself onto his feet. Turning around and looking down, he saw the thief. Apparently, the thief hadn't been so lucky. His head was crook to one side at a very unpleasant angle.

Erik's eyes moved from the fallen thief toward his place of entrance. He was able to catch a glimpse of the strange ring just before it vanished into air. Several moments passed. Erik was frozen, cold and weary. He could see his breath forming a cloud around his mouth and through the nostrils of his mask.

_Don't panic. Don't panic. Just stay calm. This is not the time to be losing your head. _

Behind him – or was it around him? – he could hear the sounds of sirens, screeching rubber tires and honking horns. But he did not recognize these things. Not yet, but he knew he had to. Whatever this place was, he was trapped there, and he had to adjust. All thoughts of dying were beyond him now. At least before he could die in the comfort of his own home. Now it was different.

_Good Lord, what am I to do?_

He suddenly realized the irony of the situation. Had he not said that just a little while ago? How long ago had it been, anyway? A few minutes? An hour? Two hours? Times was completely lost to him at this point. Everything was disoriented. As he tried to sort everything out in his mind, he stepped out of the alley. One thing was for certain: his old fear had returned. As soon as he had stepped onto the cement sidewalk, he drew his cape across is face, almost completely concealing it. He chided himself for his self-consciousness, but it came as no real surprise. Would this strange world be any different from the last? Would he be able to find kindness and understanding here where there was none before?

_One can only pray,_ he thought with a heavy sigh as he moved quietly down the street.

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Read. Review. I'll say no more. Except PLEASE!


	2. The Encounter

Alright, now we're actually getting to the X-Men. Did I have you worried there for a sec? Huh? Oh, well, whatever. Anyway, I hope you like. This may seem a little weird, but bear with me. All will be revealed in time.

I know, don't you just hate it when authors say that? 

Enjoy the chappie!

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The bus bounced up and down. Another pothole in the road.

_Geez, what's the matter with this city? Can't they just fill 'em in and be done with it?_

Rogue restrained a silent groan as a bunch of kids near the back of the bus let out whoops and laughs of excitement. For goodness's sake, it was just a stupid bump. What was the big deal?

The Goth girl with the white bangs was hardly ever in a good mood when she was forced to take field trips with a group of rowdy classmates. The constant rattling of the bus didn't help much either. It was hard to settle one's head against the window when the bus's constant shaking caused painful vibrations to run through it. And everyone else thought it was fun. She just wanted to let her mind drift away, far from the consciousness of reality. It was a reality where teens were constantly shouting at each other so they could be heard over other teens shouting, and the bus driver was shouting at all the teens to stop shouting. It was just one big unnecessary, almost idiotic noise. The same thing happened at lunch as well. At least when she was at school, Rogue had the option of eating outside under a tree behind the school. It gave her a chance for her mind to be at peace, and maybe read a book while she was at it.

Of course, Rogue wouldn't deny that there were others like her. She caught a few students here and there who were trying to read. All girls. The boys just wanted to shout and tease and do whatever possible to get on their chaperones' nerves.

She released a sigh. No wonder she didn't have any interest in the boys at her school. Sure, they weren't _all_ bad. But Rogue really wasn't that type of girl who was out to find a guy. She was fine being on her own.

Well, most of the time.

The girl caught herself trying to steal a glance toward the back of the bus. She just managed to catch a glimpse of Jean and Scott sitting together before quickly turning away. She wanted so badly to kick herself for that.

_I just want to be over him. Why can't I? It wasn't as if we were really close. Well . . . okay, not completely true. We were pretty good friends for a while. Heck, we're still _friends_. It's . . . it's just not the same. _

Rogue had never been able to get very close to people. She didn't want to think she was one of those 'clinging vines'. She was perfectly capable of being on her own, being self-sufficient. She liked being her own person with no one else attached. But still . . . it didn't mean she had to be a loner _all_ the time, did it?

Scott had been a new experience for her. Despite what had happened between them, or more accurately, between her and the X-Men, he still wanted to be her friend. Rogue had never met anyone like that. Everyone else she had known before then would have preferred to avoid her. And of course, that was how Mystique had wanted it. The very thought of her 'mother' made her stomach turn, without the assistance of the turbulent bus ride. She didn't suffer from motion sickness; it was emotional sickness that got to her. Dark, painful feelings flooded her every time that blue-skinned woman's face appeared. She thought she hated Mystique; she wanted to hate her. She certainly couldn't forgive her for all the hell she had put her through, just so long as the older woman gained some desired end. And yet, another feeling haunted her along with all of those other ugly feelings. This feeling was the worst, because it was the one feeling about Mystique that she didn't want to admit even to herself:

She wanted Mystique to love her – to truly care about her.

Yes, the idea seemed too crazy for Rogue to believe that she really felt this. The woman was a witch, a demon to her. But it was the only idea of a mother Rogue really had left, except for Irene. But where was Irene now? Why had she never tried to visit her? Why was her location kept secret from her foster child? Rogue knew Irene was not like Mystique, despite the fact that they were friends. She would believe in a heartbeat that Irene only wanted what was best for Rogue. Mystique always had so many other hidden agendas that her own daughter was nothing more to her than a tool, a weapon to be saved for a later date.

Perhaps it was not Mystique _herself_ that Rogue wanted to be loved by. Just _somebody_ that she could call a mother. Sure, Irene had been a good mom, but again, where was she now? She doubted things would ever be the same between the two of them. That ship had sailed. But the hope, the desperate hope refused to leave her.

Rogue shook her head. _Whoa, did MY mind go off topic! One minute I'm thinking about Scott, the next I'm thinking about Mystique and Irene. _

She hadn't even realized that she had succeeded in zoning out. The problem was that now she was back, the noise flooded her senses again. And before she could start thinking again, Kitty had plopped down next to her. Peppy Kitty, always looking for someone to chat with. Why did it usually end up being her?

"So, like, aren't you excited?" Kitty exclaimed in her typical sunny manner.

"Yeah, ecstatic," came the flat reply.

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun!"

Rogue groaned aloud this time. Now she remembered the other reason she was in a gloomy mood that day, aside from the usual.

"Sorry, Kitty, but opera ain't exactly my thing."

"How do you know? Have you ever listened to it?"

"I've heard it in passing, and that was as much as I could take."

"I know opera may _seem_ boring, but it really isn't if you understand what's going on. The music's kind of cool, and –"

Rogue cut her short. "Look, this sounds _really_ interesting, but may I remind you that our tastes aren't exactly alike?"

"You're only saying that because you like listening to that Grubbage group or whatever."

"It's _Grunge_, ponytail-head. And it's not like I'm trying to make you like it, because you wouldn't! It's just not in you."

"Well, yeah, I guess you can say that."

"Just like I can't like opera, because it's just not in me. I don't go for that kind of stuff."

"You like musicals, right?"

Rogue took an extra minute to think about this. "Well, I guess a few, here and there, depending on what it's about . . ."

"Well, opera isn't all the same. It's not all about fat women dressed in Viking costumes carrying spears and singing at the tops of their lungs! There's much more to it than that!"

Unfortunately for both girls, each was pretty firm in their ways and were unable to bend. Rogue insisted she wouldn't like opera if she heard it and kept comparing her dislike for it to Kitty's dislike for Grunge. Kitty insisted in return that Grunge didn't have a range of genres like opera. Rogue insisted that opera did have a general style, and the conversation continued this way until they finally reached their destination.

According to their musical director, Mr. Elbert, this field trip was supposed to be an opportunity to expand their knowledge and learn to understand the dynamics of music, especially when it came to performing it. So he picked a trip to the opera. In the opinions of most of the students: not a very good choice. A concert by some cool rock star or band would've been good; heck, some were willing to go from some musical or classical concert. But no, it had to be opera. The worst part was that Mr. Elbert hadn't even taken the time to help them understand the art of opera, how it differed from other forms of music and how it was to be appreciated. He didn't even explain to them what the opera they were going to see was about. Apparently, he was leaving the research to the students. The only one who had bothered to follow through was Kitty.

If Rogue had only known music class was like this. Due to her somewhat low grades in school, both the councilor and Professor Xavier thought it would be beneficial for Rogue to take a more productive elective than computer class. Rogue was quickly bored with it and the Professor recognized that Rogue was more artistically than technically oriented. Sure, Rogue was smart. She had a good head on her shoulders and could do well in school if she worked hard. But the girl had no real motivation. The things they learned meant almost nothing to her. Xavier believed that if Rogue had a chance to express herself more artistically, she would take more interest in the world around her, and maybe in turn do better in school. Rogue couldn't hide from the Professor that she had taken piano when she was younger, and still experimented with her guitar from time to time. For some reason Xavier believed she had a gift and wished for her to at least have an opportunity to pursue it. Rogue did not believe so strongly in herself, but it was no use trying to debate with the Professor.

So she was placed in music class. The class wasn't terrible, at least up to this point. They didn't get much homework except to practice and do a little research here and there. Mr. Elbert had hoped that Rogue would get private lessons and work to become a pianist, but that dream seemed too out there in her opinion. She agreed to bring in her electric guitar, and maybe try piano again. But it was too difficult for Rogue to find a tutor on her own. After all, didn't keeping up with training count a little more than music? She really didn't have time to find a tutor. Even if she had one her schedule was often packed.

This was the worst thing to come. The only types of operas that had electric guitars were rock operas. It was only just as she stepped off the bus that Rogue realized this fact and wondered if rock operas qualified as 'real' operas. She wasn't sure. She certainly didn't want to think that Kitty could be right, so she quickly dismissed the subject and continued to walk on with the rest of the class into the building.

The moment the group stepped into the theater, Rogue's breath had been taken away. The place was HUGE. The ceiling soared to a nearly unfathomable height, creating the perfect curve to carry the voices of the singers that would be performing on stage. It made it easy from one to realize just how small they were. Endless rows covered the floor and stalls lined the walls of the theater. There were also boxes that seemed to be carved out of the walls almost right next to the stage; at least from where the students were standing. They, of course, were the best seats in the house and provided the best views of both the stage and the orchestra pit. The entire scene was quite a jump from the theater at their school to _this_.

The students divided into groups and followed their assigned chaperone. Mr. Elbert had also made sure that each student had gotten their backstage passes for after the show. Apparently the music teacher had connections with this particular opera and had been able to arrange a meeting between the students and the performers. This was another 'clever' plan of Mr. Elbert's, as Rogue put it in her thoughts. Since the object was to help the students understand the elements of performing an art, it would greatly benefit them if they interviewed one member of either the cast or the orchestra on their experiences in performing arts. No one had been given a specific person. They were free to choose anyone they wished.

But all of that would come later. The important thing was for everyone to find their seats before the show began. Everyone had been required to dress nicely, if not completely formally, for this was the _opera_ they were attending, not some rock concert. This meant all the students had arrived at school dressed in semi-formal dresses and ties, and were forced to walk around in this manner until they could board the bus about halfway through the morning. The only good thing about that experience was that once they were on the bus, they had the rest of the day off from school. The opera house they were going to was about two hours away, so by the time they returned to the school, it would be time to go home.

Kitty had chosen to wear an outfit she had bought just recently: a bright pink halter-strapped dress that was light, flimsy, and reached about five inches above her knees. To accompany the dress, she carried a hot pink handbag and white high-heeled sandals. Rogue wore her usual semi-formal outfit: black top with long navy blue skirt, a lavender scarf, long black opera gloves, and a chain that clung to two unused loop holes. While Kitty had made sure that her hair was nicely tucked up almost on the top of her head in a cute puffy bun, Rogue left her short hair down in a slightly untidy manner. It wasn't as if Rogue couldn't keep herself tidy, but since her hair was so short and she usually wore nothing in it to keep it in place, it sometimes became a little mussed up. She usually preferred it that way anyway.

While everyone took their seats, Rogue was led to a few rows behind the front row. It was probably, beside the boxes on the tiers, the best view one could hope for. The only thing that left her a little disappointed was the fact that she couldn't see the orchestra in the pit very well. On the other hand, that might have been better so as not to distract the audience from the main performance at hand. As she and other students and opera-goers began to take their seats, the members of the orchestra were assembling into the pit. Just as she finished organizing herself and sat down, Rogue's eye caught on of the orchestra members, a violinist, who had hesitated before going into the pit. He seemed slightly distracted and entranced as he stared towards the stage. It lasted for only a moment, but Rogue's almost thought that someone, or something, had been beckoning him from the stage, with the heavy red curtain drawn across it. He was holding his case under one arm, but no sheet music seemed to be evident. The girl merely assumed that he had already put his music at his place sometime before. His back had been toward her at the time he had been observing the stage. When he turned, his head was partly turned down. Despite this though, Rogue thought she was able to catch a saddened look on his face. A few questions began to cross Rogue's mind when she saw this. Why had he acted that way? Was something bothering him? Or had she really just imagined it all?

She barely had given it another thought before Kitty managed to get a seat right next to her. Rogue quickly reminded her friend that although she was sure she wouldn't like the show, that didn't give Kitty the liberty of chattering away in her ear. Kitty assured her that she would not do that at all, except maybe during the intermission. _Can't wait_, was Rogue's sarcastic thought in response.

It was only once they got their hands on the programs that they realized what the opera was. A few of the rowdy boys from the bus were sitting a couple of seats from Rogue's right, and one of them was trying to read the title.

"Le Nozze Di Figaro?" said one boy, pronouncing the Italian title very slowly and poorly. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Look below the title, you dunce-bucket!" snapped Rogue, a little peeved by their crudeness but still trying to keep her voice down.

A few of the boys snickered and looked further down. "The Marriage of Figaro. Oh God, a stupid play about a _wedding!_ That's so gay!"

"It is not!" It was Kitty who snapped at the boys this time, who were becoming a little too loud.

The boys continued to chat among themselves how about lame this play sounded, and Rogue could hear Kitty's breath passing between clenched teeth. "Just ignore them," she whispered.

"I know," Kitty replied softly, "but don't you realize who wrote this opera? Mozart!"

"Oh, right." Rogue made a quick glance at the program just to be sure. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, just a little below the English title. She knew that Mozart was probably one of the greatest composers of all time, but the fact didn't meant anything to her yet. Maybe it would after the performance. Or maybe it wouldn't. She could only wait and see.

About a half an hour later, the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

"Well, that SUCKED!"

It was the first thing Rogue heard as soon as they stepped out of the theater. She desperately wanted to punch the creep who said that.

Fortunately, she didn't have to. One of the chaperones, Mr. Jamison, was also the P.E. teacher at the school and was a real disciplinarian when he wanted to be. As soon as she saw him grab the boy's collar, Rogue knew she didn't have to see anymore. She turned away with a satisfied smile.

Of course, she had her own share in the disappointment. She hadn't expected herself to like it, but to her own surprise she had actually felt a bit down hearted. If she had understood the story and music better, would she have been more satisfied? She couldn't say. There were a few moments where the music really had some affect on her; some power and feeling that traveled through the air into the ears of the audience. There were even some moments when her foot was either swinging or tapping to the music. But they weren't many. Some of it became somewhat dragged out, and sometimes it seemed corny or silly.

She shook her head slightly. Now she wished she knew more about this type of music, just to have a better understanding of it. Kitty had anxiously asked if Rogue liked the performance. In all honesty, Rogue replied that she wasn't greatly impressed. But she didn't feel as if she had triumphed or anything over Kitty. Far from that, she felt somewhat deficient in really comprehending it. There were little language pads in front of each person that translated everything into English, but it was a little hard to keep up at times. It seemed detached, not truly connected psychologically.

Rogue's thoughts were broken as Mr. Elbert was attempting to gain everyone's attention.

"Alright, everyone! We're going to head backstage now. Remember your manners and ask insightful and earnest questions. This is a very beneficial opportunity for you to truly understand the trials and triumphs of musical theater. Seize this opportunity, and make the most of it. It may one day be of great service to you."

Most of the students were more concerned about getting a good grade, since these interviews were going to be graded. That was Mr. Elbert's one major requirement in order to make sure the students would try to remain focused. Rogue let out a weary sigh, pulled out the backstage pass from black leather purse, and followed the massive herd of grade-hungry (and not so grade-hungry) classmates.

The backstage was chaos. Everywhere people were running around like mad animals, furiously trying to do their jobs and be in the places they needed to be. Originally Kitty and Rogue were trying their best to stick together, since Mr. Elbert said they could work in partners and Kitty didn't want to get lost among the crowd.

But the inevitable happened. They got separated.

One minute Kitty was furiously clinging to Rogue's arm, while Rogue was practically dragging her teammate through the pandemonium. Suddenly she could feel Kitty bumping into someone on the other end. Her grip slipped very suddenly, and now Rogue was alone.

_Oh great. Just great. We'll BOTH get lost in this madhouse._

Rogue decided it was best to find some place that was more spacious and would give her time to think. There also might be a better chance of finding someone in her class. Plus, she didn't like being in extremely crowded places due to her mutation. Of course, that was a worse case scenario, but she had learned that worse case scenarios liked to follow her around.

She did her best to avoid bumping into people, and she soon saw that the stage was big enough that people were more spread out. As she tried to make her way to the stage, she became momentarily distracted by someone letting out a startling cry. But soon the cry was followed by a few laughs seemingly from the same source. No one else seemed to either notice or care. Rogue rolled her eyes.

_I wonder if anyone would notice some crew member dropping a set piece on his foot or an actor passing out right in the middle of the floor. _

The thought did humor her slightly. And it was this thought that prevented her from being on alert when she turned around. She walked smack into another person.

A quick surge of rage and impatience soared through her as she was knocked onto the floor. She cursed herself several times for not watching where she was going, while at the same time cursing the person who was also not paying attention. Then she realized that sheets of paper where flying around her head.

Rogue looked at the person she had bumped into. He too had fallen to the floor. He was desperately trying to hold himself up with one hand while attempting to hold his violin case with the other. He was the violinist Rogue had seen descending into the orchestra pit before the performance. It was then she realized that all the papers that were now landing around her, and beginning to become scattered by inattentive pedestrians rushing by, was his music.

"Oh shit," she mumbled while frantically trying to gather up the papers. "I'm _so_ sorry. Dammit, I'm such a klutz. Hang on, let me get them."

The poor girl was now crawling around on her hands and knees, in a nice skirt, trying to pick up this man's sheet music. It took the musician a moment to regain his balance before he too got down and began picking up his papers.

"It's quite alright," he replied.

She looked up at him. His tone had been slightly gruff, no surprise due to the unexpected collision and going around on the floor like a sweeper trying to pick up his things. But his voice still remained calm and refined. Rogue couldn't remember hearing a voice like his before. It sounded like that of – bass or baritone? Probably closer to baritone, the voice in between bass and tenor. It also sounded like that of a professional actor. His diction and pronunciation was so perfect Rogue wondered if he was British or some kind of foreigner. He spoke too perfectly to be American. Above all, it had a pleasant ring to it that she couldn't really describe. It wasn't even as if she really paid attention to other people's voices before, but somehow his had an effect on her.

She stared at him a little longer while she struggled to pick up the rest of the papers. She eventually had to look away though, to pay full attention to what she was doing. When she finally had gathered all the papers that she could get her hands on, she saw that they were mussed up, dirty, and bore an occasional footprint. This was the second time she wanted to kick herself. More heartily this time though, because this time her failings had been at another's expense.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I-I wish I could somehow make it up to you. Really I do." She felt so pathetic. She knew there was nothing she could really do, except maybe to make new copies of his music. But she couldn't do that. She didn't know where to get it and there was no time. Angry with herself, she handed the papers back to the musician.

He seemed a little dismayed at first, but he quickly saw her fully felt remorse, and his countenance turned to kindness. "It's alright. It was just an accident. It is partly my own fault as well. You need not blame yourself so harshly. My maestro will have no problem replacing them."

Rogue looked at him, still concerned. "Won't he be upset?"

"Oh no, this sort of thing always happens. Besides, I don't really use the music that much. A lot of it is memorized."

Rogue allowed herself to smile slightly, seeing that the man was not upset. But the guilt still didn't go away. "Well, thanks. I had let my mind wander for a moment, that's why I didn't sense you coming."

This time the man gave her a curious look. "Sense?"

She flinched her gaze. "Well, I mean, I didn't see or hear you coming. Most of the time I'm usually alert. Using our senses is very important according to our teachers."

"Really?"

Rogue still didn't look at him. _You idiot, shut up while you can. Are you going to spill everything to him? _"Well, it's complicated. Never mind. The point is I should have been more aware, but I wasn't." She wasn't sure if her cheeks were flushed by now, but she was praying her hardest that they weren't. She didn't want to care if this man thought she was weird, but all the same she did a little.

She saw the man smile out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, that happens. It's worst when it happens during a performance. You try so hard to focus on what's happening, then you let yourself slip for one second and everything derails."

Rogue's smile, which had quickly vanished when her own thoughts began to derail, had returned in answer to his statement. "Yeah. Big set up for embarrassment."

"If I may say so, the important thing is to not let your mind be contained in the stage of the moment. Train your mind to think freely but still remain sharp. It's a delicate balance important not just for an artist, but for anyone who wishes to always be aware."

She nodded, then another thought hit her. "Sorry for changing the subject, but you just reminded me that I have to interview someone for my class. You know, learn something big and important to help us become better musicians."

The man suddenly became more excited. "You are a musician?"

"Well, kind of. I'm in the music class at my school. I know how to play the piano and the guitar."

He thought for a moment. "I know the piano, but I'm not that well acquainted with the guitar. Is it acoustic?"

"No, electric."

The man's mood changed again. He seemed slightly disappointed, but not all that surprised. "Are you in some kind of band?"

"Well, no. I guess I could be if I really wanted to. But I'm an independent at the moment. No major plans for the future."

"I assume you like rock and roll?"

Rogue took a moment herself to think. Who was supposed to be asking the questions, him or her? But she decided answering a few of his questions wouldn't do any harm.

"Actually, I'm more into dark stuff, angst. Ya know, Grunge, Evanescence, Avril Lavigne, that kind of thing. I'm guessing you prefer classical."

The man hesitated for a moment. "Well, yes, but not all of the conventional themes. I like some of the contemporary styles a bit more." Then he paused, studying Rogue's face cautiously. "Did . . . did you like the opera tonight?"

The way he spoke was a manner that Rogue had not been expecting at all. He seemed slightly anxious, almost as if he were hoping she would approve. And what if she didn't? She was reluctant to see how he would react. There was something close to, if not exactly, desperateness in his eyes. His eyes had been the strangest thing about him. Although he seemed not your average Joe overall, there was something particularly mysterious about those two orbs set in his face.

Perhaps his physical description would help the reader understand what Rogue felt. He was quite tall, about a head taller than the Goth. She guessed he was about 6'4'' or around that. He wore a tuxedo, but that wouldn't have been exceptional for a musician who had just performed the music for an opera, had she not noticed that his particular outfit seemed more old-fashioned than that of the other musicians. Most of them wore the typical waistcoat and pants with a white shirt, white vest, and white bow tie. This man, however, looked like he was wearing something from around the 19th century. His collar reached well up his throat, but instead of being held up by a bow tie, it was held up by a separate black collar that seemed to be clipped on or something. He also wore a black vest underneath a velvet waistcoat. His coal-black hair was slicked back with a slight reflective glare due to the light coming from the stage. His face had a smooth quality, almost unreal. She was slightly curious as to why, but she thought it better not to push the envelope. His eyes were the strangest things because they seemed detached with the rest of his face, yet they seemed to compliment with his personality. They lent a feeling of mystery and the unknown. They were very dark, almost as black as his hair, and it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between the iris and the pupil. Rogue also noticed that whenever he was in shadow, which had happened at that very moment, something happened with his eyes.

It was just as he asked her his question when part of a curtain next to them had been disturbed and drawn a bit more towards the couple. The musician's face was mostly covered by the curtain's shadow, and Rogue thought his eyes gave off a subtle yellow glow. She was almost convinced she had imagined it.

"Are you alright?"

Rogue blinked and shook her head slightly. "Yeah, sorry."

The musician still seemed a little anxious, but he continued. "I was just wondering if you enjoyed the opera today. I should understand by now that it's not a popular genre among young people at present. I just . . . well . . ." He didn't allow himself to finish, preferring what was in his thoughts to remain unsaid. But Rogue quickly understood.

"You mean," she replied softly, to make extra sure no one else could hear, "that you were just wondering if there were any of us who still cared?" She didn't speak in any sarcastic tone that could often be detected when she spoke, according to most of her teammates. She meant what she said in complete earnest, but she knew how people often interpreted her tone and feared that he would feel the same way. But when she looked at him face on, his eyes meeting hers, she couldn't find it. He did scowl, but not from any sign of sarcasm.

"Yes," he finally answered. She couldn't tell if he was ashamed or saddened. "Yes, I suppose that's correct. I know I seem to be presumptuous or judgmental, but . . . I really should apologize." He had lowered his head for a moment, then looked up again in her eyes. "I . . . I saw the look you had when I asked you the question. You were afraid to answer. Afraid of what I would think."

Rogue bit her lip. She hadn't realized that she had actually given that away. She had tried to keep a straight face, and yet he saw through it.

"I just . . . I guess I was . . . disappointed, in a way. I've never actually attended an opera before myself, so I didn't really know what to expect – "

"Except the typical," he put in, completing her thought before it had even fully processed. He seemed a little disturbed by something, as if someone was edging him on. Was _she_ edging him on?

She wanted to avoid getting him upset, so she defended herself quickly. "It wasn't that it was bad. Really, I just didn't understand it. It's just not what I've been used to. I mean, I respect it and all but-"

The musician did something she never expected him to do. In a quick move, he came next to her, placed one hand on her shoulder, and kept the other up to put his index finger in front of his lips. He gently shushed her and led her a little further away from the other members of the cast and crew who had began listening to her stammered speech. Once he was sure no one else was trying to listen in, he looked at her again.

"It's okay," he said softly, "I understand. You haven't been given a fair chance yet. Here, I'll make you a deal." He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope. "I assume you are with the music class from Bayville High."

Rogue's mouth opened slightly. "How did you know?"

"All will be revealed in time. Here, take this letter. Your class will be leaving soon, and you have not yet conducted your interview with me yet."

The girl didn't know what hit her hardest: the fact that he knew all about the interview and that he had even remembered it, or that she had completely forgotten it and was now going to fail.

"Do not ask any questions. Not yet. Take this letter and turn it into your teacher the day you need to turn in your written interview. If the teacher finds the note acceptable, come to the opera this Saturday for the 2:00 performance. All accommodations will be paid for. If the teacher does not accept the note, you are not obligated to ever return to the opera, and may dismiss your meeting with me from your memory. Do we have a deal?"

What a deal he was striking! Rogue could hardly make any sense out of it. She stared at him as if he had five heads. Everything he had said was just a lot of babbling to her. What was worse was that he wouldn't even let her ask any questions. He only said, "If you do agree and the teacher accepts this note, you must come back to the opera. Do you acquiesce?"

Rogue allowed another moment to pass before she spoke, then finally she replied, "Alright. I'll do it, but only as long as after all of this, if I see you again, you will explain it."

The musician nodded and smiled. "It shall be done." Suddenly he turned his head for a moment, listening to the crowd not too far from them. Then he took her by the wrist and led her head-on. It was only while they were passing through the crowd that Rogue noticed the man had neither his instrument nor his music with him. "Hey, what happened to your things?"

He managed a momentary glance at her, where his smile extended in an almost mischievous manner. "Magic," he replied.

The Goth was almost stunned at how easily the musician manipulated his way through the crowd. It made her wonder how exactly they ended up bumping into each other. Before she knew it, they had exited the auditorium into a hall that led to the foyer. He firmly pressed the envelope into her hand. "Don't forget," he said, still smiling in that strange manner. "Saturday at 2 o'clock. Don't worry, there will probably be a new opera here by then."

"How can you be sure?" asked Rogue, remembering that it was Monday. Although she knew that the destined date was five days away, she wasn't sure that was enough time for an opera to be boosted out of a theater.

"I know how things circulate around here fairly well. Don't worry, we will have plenty of time to talk afterwards. Can you wait till then?"

She gave him an uncertain look. "How do you even know I'll be here?"

His expression changed slightly, his eyes adapting that dark, mysterious quality again. "Time can only tell."

How desperately she wished she could have asked more questions at that moment. Why had this man taken such an interest in seeing her, when they had only just met? She didn't want to be suspicious of him, but in these times safety and one's word were no guarantees. As if sensing the doubt that was filling her up, the musician gave her hand, the one which held the note, a gentle squeeze. "I only wish to become better acquainted with you. I know you probably find it hard to trust me, but I promise that I want nothing more than to know more about you. You have my word."

Rogue felt slightly ashamed as she spoke again, but she knew she needed to be honest. "Word and honor don't count for much nowadays."

"I am perfectly aware of that. But I do not wish to harm you in any way. You must believe me at least on that point. If you still don't trust me, you may bring a friend with you to the opera. Just assure me that if that is what you plan to do, I will still have an opportunity to speak with you in private."

The girl carefully considered this. She could still hear the hustle and bustle of the activity in the auditorium, but she quickly picked up another source of movement, from behind. Someone else was approaching. She quickly turned her head around and saw that the class was coming her way. She gasped slightly and turned back to the musician. "Very well. If all goes as you say, I'll be there."

"Thank you, miss." He gave her a courteous bow, and she in turn nodded politely. Then, just as she was about to turn and go, he caught her by the arm.

"Wait! I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

Apprehension had block her senses for a moment, but then she was quickly assured and turned back to him. "Rogue. Rogue Darkholme."

"It has been a pleasure, Miss Darkholme. My name is Fenton. Erik Fenton." He politely extended his hand. Although she was somewhat pressured by the oncoming crowd, Rogue smiled and took his hand in a shake. Just then who would come running up to her but Kitty.

"Hey Rogue, where have you been? I've been, like, freaking out. I was afraid – " She stopped short when she noticed the tall man standing next to her friend. "Oh, who's this?"

"Uh, this is Mr. Fenton," Rogue quickly answered. Mr. Fenton nodded toward the new girl and politely shook her hand. For some reason, however, he didn't do it the same way he had shaken Rogue's hand. It was more formal, less eager. "A pleasure, miss . . .?"

"Oh, Kitty!" cried the girl very excitedly. Her excitement nearly threw both Rogue and the musician off balance. "Kitty Pryde! Oh man, I _loved_ the show today! You guys were great! I'm afraid I couldn't hear you in particular, but I'm sure you sounded great all the same. I would've interviewed you if I had found you first, _and_ if _someone_," shooting a glare at Rogue, "hadn't lost me in the crowd. So the guy I got stuck with was kinda old and stiff. But you sure aren't! Man, Rogue sure got lucky. She's always getting herself tangled up with the interesting guys. Like this one time-"

Rogue clapped one hand over the girl's mouth while she used the other to shove Kitty's arm in a lock behind her back, like what police officers do when they arrest a criminal. Rogue forced herself not to look at Mr. Fenton as she walked out of the building, knowing she would immediately turn as red as a tomato if she did. As long as she didn't see his reaction, she could take it. Rogue refused to speak with Kitty for the rest of the bus ride and for the rest of the day.

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Yeah, only a psycho could write this, right? Yeah, well, you're probably right. I'll let the psycho know. She's gotta be around here somewhere. ;)


	3. How Was Your Day?

Here we go again. This gets a little more normal now. Pff, yeah right! I guess you'll have to be the judge of that. Don't forget to leave your reviews at the end of the chapter. That's right, that little blue box ALL the way down there. It will only take a moment. Leave a little note telling me what I should do to make this better. The next chapters are still in the works, and I'm open to improvement. Seriously, don't be shy. Hope you enjoy!

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"Have you found it yet?"

Dr. McCoy's voice was slightly muffled since Logan's head was halfway in the hood of the van. He let out a growl and attempted to wipe some perspiration off his forehead without smudging more oil on himself. "I'm working on it, Beast. Will ya stop breathing down my neck?"

"Sorry, sorry. It's just that the Professor wants this done before the students get back. There won't be any time when they return since he will tell them to change right away. It wouldn't be wise to hold up the training session by not fixing the van in time."

"It also wouldn't be wise to let those kids so much as touch this thing after I just spent over an hour fixing it up, since they'll probably just mess it up again. Remember what happened last time?"

Hank smiled. "I know you're very protective of your 'precious', but it isn't just yours, you know. It belongs to everyone at the institute."

"Then why am I the only one that fixes it up? There, I think I found it."

Logan had traced one of the cables to the knob connecting to the engine, where the cap connecting the two had become partly unscrewed. He grabbed the pliers from his handy-man's belt and gave the cap a good twist. It was true that these machines were not only his hobby, but his friends. Having a difficult time connecting with other people can do that. But he still felt that the students should start taking more responsibility. Especially the ones who liked messing with the X-Van, Bobby and his gang.

Hank seemed greatly relieved, judging by the look on his face as Logan brought his head back out. "Thank goodness, because I think we finished not a moment too soon." He could hear the group of vehicles driving up to the garage.

"Yeah, I hear 'em too," replied Logan. It didn't take much skill to hear them, since the endless prattle accompanied the engines of the two cars. It was a warm day in May, and since the temperature was beginning its long awaited rise, the windows of the cars were open with voices and music pouring out. Scott was in the lead with his red and white-striped convertible, along with Kurt, Bobby, Ray, Roberto, and Sam. Four out of five of the boys were joking and laughing as usual, with Sam crammed next to the left side of the car without saying more than a few words. At least Scott and his passengers didn't have to worry about the car becoming overheated. The other car was Jean's SUV, which was obviously filled with the girls of the group. Kitty sat in the passenger's seat next to Jean while Tabitha, Amara, and Jubilee gossiped in the back. (Rahne and Jamie attended the local middle school, eighth grade, and therefore had to take the bus that dropped them off near the front of the institute.) And last, but certainly not least, came Rogue on her motorcycle which she had gotten from her teammates on her recent birthday. She even wore the black leather jacket that Logan gave to her to go with her new ride, despite the warm weather. Her immunity to the heat was always explained by the fact that she grew up in Mississippi, and she always had to wear clothes that completely covered her even in warmer climates. Unlike her preceding teammates, she was serious and silent. She probably would have been that way even if they had made her ride with them; however, she had managed to escape.

Scott smoothly pulled up his ride into the garage next to the X-Van, then killed the engine as the other boys quickly leapt out. Logan shook his head. _What's the point of having doors on those things anymore if people don't use them?_ The SUV pulled up on the other side of the convertible. The music that emitted from inside stopped with the engine and the girls practically tumbled out in one giant knot. Rogue had pulled up her bike on the opposite side of the X-van, away from everyone else and next to the other motorcycles and scooters that were kept there. She undid her helmet, placed it on the seat, and silently slipped next to Logan to watch the other kids leave.

Logan had noticed her, taking a quick glance. He could tell she really didn't feel apart of them, a kid who talked and horsed around with other kids. She certainly didn't think she was better than them or anything. She just felt more of an outsider. He had often felt the same way about himself. But still, Rogue needed friends, friends who were at level with her. The only friend who had been like that was that girl Risty, and well . . . there wasn't any need to get into that. Otherwise Rogue had no one her age to talk to. And Logan hated admitting it, but part of him preferred her that way, as she would often talk to him instead. The other part of him wanted to punch his guts out for thinking that, because he knew it was selfish. After all, didn't he too need someone his age to relate to? Sure, Charles was one of his closest friends, but even he couldn't completely understand him, just as Rogue felt that Kurt or Kitty, or even that Cajun, couldn't fully understand what she went through. Everyone had their problems, but it was that special sensitive spot, that spot that was so vulnerable, that made it necessary for Logan and Rogue to surround themselves with shields. Their ability to trust others had been abused too much, and they both could understand that. Maybe others were able to forgive and forget, but it was much harder for them. No, even Gambit couldn't understand her in that way.

The feral mutant snorted slightly. Gambit. That Cajun cad. It was still hard to believe that Xavier was willing to let that creep live there. He wasn't officially a part of the team, but Xavier did want to give him a chance; and by the way things were going, it wouldn't be too long before they were considering him an X-Man. Logan had encountered such low-lives before. He knew Charles was just trying to give him a chance to do real good for others, and according to him everyone had to be given that chance. But Logan still didn't like it. There was just something he didn't like about that pyrokinetic being there. He remembered talking about it with Charles, and the professor's suggestion as to the reason left him in an ill mood all that day. The reason was standing right next to him.

Rogue had at first been watching the group, but when she saw Jean and Scott putting their arms around each other's waists, she turned her focus toward Logan. It was then she noticed the grimace on his face, the kind of look he got when he was thinking about something unpleasant. "What's the matter?"

He seemed slightly surprised that she was talking to him. At least at that moment, when he had been thinking about her. Although a little shaken, he quickly recovered his cool and replied, "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About what?"

Logan was hesitant. He didn't want to close himself up to her. They had just started opening up to one another, and it had been doing some good for the both of them. But how could he tell her what he was thinking about? He took an extra moment to think, then he answered: "I was just thinking about that Cajun friend of yours, Gambit."

The Goth quirked an eyebrow, a habit that she had picked up from the feral mutant himself. "Why were you thinking about him?"

"I dunno. Just how weird it is that Xavier wants him to join the team. I mean, I respect that he wants to help the dude turn his life around, but isn't it kind of a jump?"

Rogue gave a slight sigh. "I know that he can seem like a real jackass, but he does try to do the right thing for the most part. If only he wasn't constantly trying to hit on every girl in the school. That just pisses me off."

Logan gave a small chuckle, although it was more sadistic than amused. "Are you jealous or something?" He had tried to be playful, but the statement cut into him really deep.

"Pff. Yeah right. Like I'd be jealous of those chicks. It's just, he makes girls look like they're vulnerable to him, that he's so smooth he can have any girl he wants. And then he doesn't even stick with the girl. In less than a few weeks he's off to find a new prize."

Logan had to agree. Although he had had a turn at women every now and then, the idea of just dropping one girl and picking up another like pebbles on a beach made him just as pissed. He had even spoken about it to Gambit once, and the Cajun merely replied, "Remy love all women."

_He might love them, but does he really give a damn about just one of them, just for being a person?_

He really believed Rogue deserved better. Hey, he wasn't blind. That French-talking southerner had had his eye on the Southern Belle for a while, even as he was fooling around with other women. Perhaps he _was_ trying to make Rogue jealous. If a guy can't be straight with the girl he wants, does he deserve her?

"Well, I suppose no one's perfect." He was responding both to Rogue's comments and his own.

"Yeah, I know. Except maybe them." Rogue had glanced over back at Scott and Jean. They were no longer in their passionate embrace, but they were holding hands and staring at each other dreamily. Logan looked in the direction Rogue was glancing, and both shared a similar form of disapproval. For Logan, it was the fact that they made their whole lovey-dovey couple thing look really phony. For Rogue it was that they thought themselves so great and wonderful and _perfect_ that they had nothing better to do than stare at each other. Mr. and Mrs. World, as some of the students called them. The paragon of couples. Apollo meets Aphrodite. It made her want to gag. And yet she wished she could have some of it. No, not all of it. That really would have made her sick, but just to have that ability to be with someone who was totally gag-gag over you. Just to feel like that you are truly beautiful, not just physically, to at least one other person. And none of that phony crap. Someone who really felt it through and through, really genuinely.

Rogue shook her head to bring her out of that fantasy. Even if such a person existed, her skin would still be there. There would always be that barrier that even the deepest love couldn't make go away.

Logan detected the look of anguish and despair on her face, and despite his usual aloofness, he gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, kid. There's someone out there. You deserve better."

The girl vaguely recalled someone who she once considered her closest friend saying something along those lines. "Thanks," she replied softly, then turned and headed out of the garage. With a strange feeling of part pity, part longing, Logan watched her walk away alone.

Training had been grueling, as usual. And just as usual, the X-Van ended the training session as something someone who find in a scrap metal yard. Logan had convinced Xavier to make Bobby and his friends (who were guilty of charge) clean up the van after the session. Besides, things had gone pretty normally. Except for one thing.

The students had already obtained a lot of experience from certain 'apocalyptic' events of the not too distant past, so they were used to performing under stress. Still, their skills needed to continue developing and refining. They weren't perfect, despite what some of the students wanted to think. While it was generally the younger mutants that thought themselves more prepared than they really were, there were a few of the older ones who were pretty hot-headed. Remy seemed to be one of them.

While the younger recruits were out learning the grooves and moves of the X-Van, the veterans were busy with another battle simulation filled with robots, guns, bombs, and all that jazz. The instructors watched the team from above in their little observation room. The leaders were of course Scott and Jean, even though Gambit and Colossus were also participating. Kurt was busy taking out the guns along the walls, Scott and Jean were occupied with reaching the center of the room where a special floating chip was contained in some cylinder, and the rest of the team covered them by taking out whatever weapons and robots they could. Gambit handled a lot of the robots at a distance with his explosive cards, and Colossus, Rogue, and Kitty handled those that escaped the Cajun's blows. Kitty and Rogue were trying to work together to short out the robots from the inside, but with the constant moving and dodging around the two were soon separated.

As Rogue managed to dodge another shot from the laser above her (which was shortly destroyed by Kurt), she attempted to take in the situation. Jean and Scott had nearly reached their destination, but the concentration of robots in their area had increased incredibly. Colossus seemed to be trying to make his way over to them to assist, but both he and Kitty were over-occupied. And where on earth was Gambit? She pursed her lips together as she realized she was the only one who could help. Without wasting another moment, she swiftly wove her way through the mess of mutants and machines. She came closer and closer to her team leaders, and was prepared to launch a surprise attack against the robots. Suddenly, a large shadow fell over her. A quick turn brought her face to face with one of the robots. She braced herself for a leap at its chest to punch her fist through its circuits, when suddenly something knocked her down from the right side. Rogue hit the floor hard and watched as a laser implanted in the robots wrist shot down Jean at point blank range. This of course distracted Scott long enough for a gun that had emerged from behind a wall panel to take him out. The robots were upon them, ready to finish them off.

Suddenly, everything stopped. The lights went out, the machines stopped, and all signs of activity ceased. "That's enough," said Professor Xavier through the overhead speaker. "Scott, Jean, are you alright?"

Scott got up, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, I think so, Professor." Then he saw that Jean was still down and he quickly went over to help her up.

Rogue knew it wasn't her fault. And yet for a moment she felt it was. If only she had taken out that robot . . .

"Cherie, are you okay?" The New Orleans accent was unmistakable, and in a moment Rogue realized what had happened. Without giving it another thought, she looked up at Remy.

"What the hell did you think you were doing!" she screamed. "I was about to take that thing out! I didn't need you to rescue me! What's your problem!"

Her screaming echoed painfully throughout the Danger Room. The large dome ceiling help to carry her rage-filled voice with the piercing Southern accent. Everyone stared at the two of them. Remy seemed overwhelmingly surprised and confused. He had seen Rogue angry quite a few times, but never this much.

"Remy didn't . . . he thought . . . but mon Cherie-"

"And _don't_ call me that! Ya hear?" Her eyes burned with a terrible rage that would have had the kings of the world on their knees. Too upset to find words, she turned away in a huff and stormed out of the Danger Room. From above, the instructors were still in shock at the girl's outburst. Except Logan. Okay, so maybe it took him a little by surprise, but something along the line of what had occurred had been expected by him. As soon as Remy had knocked her out of the way of the robot, thinking she was in danger, he knew there would be trouble. He let out a sigh, then turned and left without a word to the other teachers.

Rogue had changed and retreated to her room. She didn't care if the Professor wanted to have a talk with the rest of the group. She wasn't going to be there. A part of her feared to face the crowd after the way she had exploded at Remy. Perhaps he didn't really deserve it. He had made a mistake, just like any other person. But a part of her, the more temperamental, flaming passionate side, still was pissed off at him. He was so consumed in showing off his macho and manliness to her that it cost them the mission. Although it wasn't a real mission. But what if it had been? She let out a disgruntled sigh and went to her closet. Inside, behind her rack of outfits, was her case; and inside, the chrome red Stratocaster with a black fingerboard. She laid out the case on the bed and carefully opened it. She pulled out the instrument, the pick, and began to stroke the strings as she arranged her fingers around to play the right chords. She had found it to be a source of relaxation. It gave her something constructive to do, instead of punching out pillows, smashing mirrors, or tearing down curtains. She began to play out a little song that she had been attempting to compose. There were no words to it yet, just a little melody she had invented. Her gloved fingers moved along the strings, helping to make the different notes that carefully fit together into the chords. And when those chords were played just right, her ears and nerves seemed to tingle with a strange pleasure. How she wished she could make it into a full-fledged song, but she wasn't much of a poet. She was reluctant to ask anyone else to help her, afraid that they would make the lyrics all mushy or pretty like those in pop songs. They had to have meaning, feeling, portraying an important message. But what?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Well, several knocks, although one would have been enough to make Rogue get up from the bed and answer it. It was Kitty.

"Hey, so this is where you're hiding. I might've known."

"You must've. Isn't that why you came here?"

"Well, yeah but . . . oh, never mind, can I just come in?"

Rogue stared warily at the girl. Were there others following her? Was there a big man-hunt going on? She took some glances down each way, then cautiously opened the door more.

"Oh, alright. Just don't attract any attention, okay?"

Kitty let out one of her annoying squeaks of excitement. "Yeah, promise!" She sprinted into the room. Rogue made one last check in the halls before closing the door behind her. Then she turned and faced the valley girl. "Okay, whuddaya want?

Kitty plopped down on the bed and looked at her friend with complete innocence. "What are you talking about? Can't a girl just hang with one of her closest friends in their room?"

"Not if number one, the friend in question has become public enemy number one in the school, and two, if the girl in question has been prone to be the institute's queen of gossip."

"Oh, come on! That's not true." Then she paused. "But . . . I was kind of wondering what happened in the Danger Room today. You flipping out and all . . ."

Rogue threw her hands up and let out a groan of frustration and despair. Somehow she managed to become the main topic of most conversations around the institute with all of her life issues. Was it any of their business? No! And yet they treated her problems like something from a soap opera. It was driving her nuts, not to mention pushing her away from the other students. She pulled out a chair from her desk and sat down in it, feeling strangely weary.

There was a moment of silence, then Kitty spoke up again. "Rogue, I know this may sound kind of weird to you, but you're really one of my closest friends. Sure, not the easiest to get along with, but I do care about you, in a friend-to-friend kind of way. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Rogue sighed. The question of her friendship with Kitty was constantly turned over in her mind again and again. Kitty and Kurt were really the only two kids in the institute that she had felt any real connection to. She couldn't explain why she felt that way about Kitty, although Kurt made a lot more sense. They were so different, it was amazing that they could get along at all. For the most part they were bickering and ticking each other off with their different attitudes and tastes. So what was with this so called "bond"? Maybe it had to do with that old saying, that the people who really get under your skin are the ones that you need in your life, or something like that. It was along the lines that people come into each other's lives for some kind of purpose, to teach us something about others and about ourselves. Hey, wasn't there some kind of song about that? She seemed to recall it was from some kind of musical. Anyway, maybe that's what it was between her and Kitty. Not that she wanted to admit it, but it could have been possible. Well, Kitty _was_ pretty smart, academically at least, and she could be really tough when she wanted to. Of course, she was also one of those mallrats that thought the greatest thing in the world and the answer to all of its problems was shopping. But altogether, Rogue did kind of care about Kitty, certainly whether or not her life was in danger or something. Yeah, she would care. But on a day-to-day basis, it was easy to forget that.

She glanced back at Kitty. "Look, I'm okay. Really. I was just . . . a little stressed out. It happens."

"Wow. Okay. Um, there were a few other things I wanted to ask you."

_Oh no, _thought Rogue. _Here we go._

"First, what exactly is the deal with you and Remy? I mean, he's obvious crazy about you, constantly trying to get your attention. Like he did today."

Rogue blew a strand of white hair out of her face. "Thanks for reminding me."

"And it seems that you hate his guts, and yet you don't. What's up with that?"

The Goth waited a moment, reluctant to answer but knew that Ms. Peppy wouldn't leave until she got answers.

"Okay, he isn't really that bad, when he's not acting like a total asshole. But he just can't be straight. Just like a thief, he's gotta go sneaking around to get what he wants. He's not really that open."

"Well, neither are you."

She let out a quiet snort. "Not in the same way. I'm just not a social person. He is. It's his dishonesty that makes him unapproachable. As a friend, I mean. You think I would just kill myself for a guy that's a thief, sexy, and philanders with every girl that crosses his path?"

Kitty couldn't help but giggle slightly. "Well, why not?"

Rogue's scowl grew all the more intense. "Maybe you like those kind of guys, but I don't. I've been hurt enough times in my life. I'm not going to commit suicide with a guy like him. It's just asking for trouble."

"You mean, you'd rather have a guy who was willing to stick with you for the rest of your life?"

"Well . . . yeah, sure."

The girl in pink seemed slightly confused. She took a moment before speaking again. "But then, where's all the fun?"

Rogue gave her a puzzled look. "What?"

"You know, where's the fun in dating, just for fun? You can still go out with someone and not get serious. Then if you decide to split there aren't any hard feelings."

"Do you realize how many of those relationships end in flames? It's happened too many times. First, they think that they're just out to have a good time. But then, at least one of them really starts falling for the other. Then one or both of them realize they can't take the relationship and they break up in a much more ugly manner. Either that or they get drunk at a party, sleep together, and the girl suffers from the anxiety of possibly being pregnant or getting some kind of disease."

"Well, you wouldn't have to worry about that last part."

"That's another thing too. What's the point of going out like that when you can't even touch them? The casual date will dump you in a snap like a bucket of water, and the long term boyfriend will eventually give up on you and find some chick more attractive who can be touched. Face it, there's no room for people like me in the dating world."

Rogue turned toward the desk again, avoiding Kitty's gaze. Again, the valley girl paused before speaking. "But . . . how do you know Remy will be like that? Sure he's been with other girls, but that doesn't mean you don't mean something more to him."

"We barely know each other, except of course for that incident down south, but that's in the past. From then on he just keeps following me around, trying to smooth talk me. And now this, trying to rescue me and end up embarrassing me in front of the entire team. He's really getting on my nerves."

"Maybe if you just give him a real chance, you'll like him." The girl had that subtle hint of sneakiness in her voice.

"Thanks, but no thanks," replied Rogue in a tone that made it definite that the subject was at a close. "Now, if that's all, I'd like to be alone now."

Slowly, Kitty got off her butt and headed toward the door. She seemed to be practically out the door; then she suddenly stopped. "Oh, wait. There was one more thing."

Rogue sighed and slid further into her chair. _Figures._

"I wanted to ask you about that musician guy. What was he like? Did you think he was cool? You seemed really occupied in getting me out of there when I started talking about guys."

Rogue grounded her teeth, and remembered she should have been giving Kitty the silent treatment. But after all that had happened in the past hour, it didn't really seem to matter anymore. Rogue got up from her chair and walked back over to the bed.

"First of all, I was mortified that you would start going into that kind of thing in front of a perfect _stranger_. He probably thought I was weird enough before you came along." Or was that how she felt about him?

"You mean, he didn't like you?"

"I don't know. I . . . I don't think so. He . . . . . . he wanted to see me again."

Kitty immediately got excited. "REALLY? Like a date!"

"No, no, not like that. Just a . . . a chance to talk some more. He seemed interested in the fact that I was a musician. By the way, he invited me to the opera on Saturday."

"Ooh, really? Cool! I'd love to come, but I don't want to cramp you."

"Actually, he said I could bring a few friends, just as long as I promised we could talk by ourselves."

Kitty thought for a moment. "You don't think he's some sick psycho, do you?"

"I _hope_ not. He seemed pretty okay, but I was very cautious. He seemed to sense my distrust, though. It was kind of weird, as if he knew exactly what I felt. As if he . . . could really understand, beyond the usual."

The other girl took a minute to think this over. "Is he really that strange?"

"Well, yeah, but not in a really threatening way. Just . . . eccentric. Ya know, like a lot of musicians. He also seemed to be kind of old fashioned. He didn't dress like everyone else in the orchestra."

"Yeah, I think I noticed that too. Did he seem nice?"

"Yeah, really nice. A little on the grim side, but polite and understanding. He kind of reminded my of Mr. Rochester."

"Mr. who?"

"Rochester, from _Jane Eyre_. Didn't you ever read it?"

"Oh yeah, I just forgot."

"Well, anyway, he seemed to fit that description in at least that way." Then another thought had crossed her mind, and she glanced over at her school books. The envelope was still there, somewhere in her English textbook.

"I bet your interview with him was really interesting."

Rogue hesitated a moment. "Well, actually . . . I didn't do it."

Kitty stood on the bed. "WHAT! Rogue, you're gonna flunk! How could you forget to interview the guy? You talked with him for like, what, fifteen minutes?"

"Oh, come on. It couldn't have been that long."

"And still you have nothing to write about for him."

"Well, I'm not sure yet. He did give me something. Something that I'm supposed to turn into Mr. Elbert."

"Really? What is it?"

Rogue stopped again. Should she really tell her? Was it really necessary? Did Mr. Fenton want her to keep it a secret? After a few seconds of thinking, she finally answered, "Don't worry about it right now. I should wait to tell you about it after it's over. I still don't know how it's going to turn out."

"Until it's over? How it will all turn out? Rogue, what are you talking about?"

"Don't worry, okay? Now just leave me alone for a little while. I'd like to get some peace and quiet before dinner. It's been a weird day."

A look from Kitty and she could tell that had been the understatement of the century. "Besides, we both have homework," she added. Yeah, it was a lame excuse, but it was a valid point. Kitty shook her head slightly, then got up and left the room. Then, just when Rogue thought she was alone, Kitty phased her head through the door one last time. "So . . . can I come with you on Saturday? Maybe we can bring Kurt."

"If I even go, and it gets you off my case, then yes, you and Kurt can go."

"Great. How will you know if you're going?"

"Don't worry. I'll know." So with that, Kitty left the room, for real.

Rogue took another glance over at her book pile. _I hope._

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Ooh, suspense! I'll try to post ASAP, with all suggestions considered. This is my first crossover, and an odd one at that. There is still more character development to come, so don't expect everyone to be exactly the same by the end of this story. Uh huh, that's right, lessons will be learned. DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN. Okay, maybe not lessons, but you get the idea. See you around!


	4. Thats Strange

Sorry this chapter took so long. I had finals last week and I promised myself that I wouldn't do any writing outside of that for my essays. But now, SCHOOL'S OUT! Freedom, at last! So, expect more chapters to come by the bucket.

I also want to thank Cloudxinxcrimson and BlondeSquirrel for reviewing my story. You guys are awesome! By the way, C.i.C. – you got the song right! I'll probably add it in at the end of the story. There's a ways to go so I hope you can stick around. And don't worry, all questions will be explained over time. I'm glad I'm getting someone suspensed. Heeheehee . . . okay, that's enough. On with da fic!

DC: Already did it. If you don't believe me, look at chapter 1. Thppb.

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Rogue looked nervously into her hand. There was the envelope. It was Thursday, the day the interviews were due, and Rogue still hadn't written hers. She had felt so stupid for not at least _attempting_ to write out an interview. Even if it was completely made up. No one would know. Except Kitty, but she knew her teammate wouldn't rat her out, although she might give her a big lecture on lying on assignments. Rogue had no doubt that Kitty would find out about it. It was one of her greatest talents, being a Yenta. But even if she tried, Rogue knew she wouldn't have come up with anything believable or good. It would have been really lame and cheesy and Mr. Elbert probably would have seen right through it. No, leave that stuff to Bobby or even Remy, but not to her. She was afraid that labeled her as some kind of goody-two-shoes, or just a really bad liar. In truth, she preferred to stick with the latter.

Now she had _this_ thing to turn in. This almost seemed more embarrassing. She was too nervous, or perhaps superstitious, to open the envelope and see what it said. She was worried that maybe if she looked at it, it would end up being something that would only make her situation worse. She still wasn't sure if she could trust Mr. Fenton. How could he have planned some kind of excuse ahead of time anyway?

Just then, Mr. Elbert stood up from his desk and stood right in front of the middle of the blackboard. "Please pass up your interviews to the front. May I remind you that I hope you put a lot of effort into this assignment, because this will be worth a test grade."

A few "awws" and groans went around the room, but not as bad as when a teacher assigns everyone some kind of huge research paper that's due in three weeks. Then there can be a groan they could hear in Guatemala. Fortunately, Rogue sat in the front of her row and didn't have to endure the suspicious glances of others when she passed up her folded up note. When everyone else's assignments reached the front, Rogue ripped open the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She delicately placed it on top of the pile just as Mr. Elbert was passing by.

When he saw the folded sheet, he gave Rogue a suspicious look. "Miss Darkholme? Is there something you wish to explain?"

Rogue really wished he would speak a bit more softly, as she was certain almost everyone in the room had heard him. "Do you think you could look at my thing really quickly?"

"Why? What is this?" She didn't answer. Mr. Elbert seemed to become a bit more agitated. "Rogue, show me what you have."

_I'm dead,_ she thought to herself as she reluctantly picked up her piece of paper. _I'm dead and he's gonna humiliate me in front of the entire class! I just want to vanish right now!_

But she didn't. The eyes of the class were on her. She hated it when they did that, as if they were watching her execution. She refused to acknowledge the other people around her, even Kitty who was sitting further in the back a few rows to the right. Too terrified to look at it, she slowly unfolded the paper and pressed against the crease to make it more flat. Then she laid it out for Mr. Elbert to see. A few other students immediately to her sides tried to get a quick look. She managed to keep a straight face throughout the entire process, but she still feared that Mr. Elbert would see through her act.

She focused on his face while he focused on the paper. After a few moments, he picked up the pile. "Alright then, Miss Darkholme. You did the assignment. Try not to be such a drama queen. That's for the acting course."

A wave of relief swept over her. She couldn't believe it. Well, two things actually. The first thing was that she was off the hook. Her butt had been saved from complete and total annihilation. The second was that Mr. Fenton had already done the assignment for her. But how? How did he know she was coming to do an interview, even before she or her class had ever arrived? And why would he think to do such a thing? Did he know that he would distract the person he interviewed from doing what they are supposed to do and decided to be kind enough to write up the interview for them? She couldn't think of anything else for the rest of the class or for the school day. Luckily it had been her class before lunch with only two more classes afterward, so she didn't miss much.

As she thought about it, there was a possibility of how he knew that she couldn't get out of her head. She knew it was better not to jump to conclusions, but she still couldn't shake the thought: What if Mr. Fenton was a mutant? What if he had the ability to see into the future and know what would happen to him after that performance? If he did have this power, did that also mean that he knew his little "note" would work on Mr. Elbert?

Hey, it wasn't completely impossible. She herself was and lived in a mansion filled with mutants. For her it was nothing strange or out of the usual. Still, the idea of meeting another mutant without even knowing it sent little chills down her spine. It was kind of exciting. Then she remembered the deal she had made with him: if the note worked, she had to come to the opera on Saturday. She was actually glad to do so, because it meant she would have the chance to talk to him again. Of course, there was the issue of sitting through another opera that she was almost certain she wouldn't enjoy very much. But she believed it was worth it. No matter what, she had to find out the truth about Mr. Erik Fenton.

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It was Friday morning, and the mansion was coming alive once more. The younger teens were running and skipping down the stairs and sliding down the banisters. Most of them had planned to grab food on the go so they could spend time talking with their friends on the way to school rather than in the kitchen or the dining room. The older students were a bit more patient and took the time to eat out in the dining room with the Professor and the other instructors. Scott and Jean had already graduated from Bayville High and didn't need to worry about rushing out the door to get to classes on time. So they usually joined the adults in a relaxing meal. Kitty, Kurt and Rogue were able to join them this morning because it was the first review day for finals the following week and they didn't need to worry about getting to school on the dot. The teachers had become more lenient towards the students due to the vacation at hand. Monday would be the first day of June. Piotr had decided to join them for breakfast too, and was the one to tell them that Remy had some business to take care of outside of town.

Kitty was helping herself to pancakes, Kurt was shoving large spoonfuls of sugar-coated cereal by the minute, and Rogue was buttering a croissant with some jam-covered toast on the side.

"Hey, Rogue? Could you please pass the syrup?" asked Kitty. Rogue tried to grab the pitcher of syrup which was positioned right in the middle of the table in front of her, but she only managed to touch it with her fingertips.

"Ooh! Don't worry! I'll get it!" cried Kurt with his mouth full of mashed-up cereal. He quickly teleported to one of the chandeliers hanging over the table which happened to be right above the syrup. He reached down and grabbed it, and made sure to give his big sis a wink. Then he teleported to the chandelier hanging in front of Kitty, then did the honors of pouring the syrup over her pancakes. Unfortunately, he accidentally poured some of it on her scrambled eggs too.

"Kurt, look out! Aww, look what you did!"

"Kitty, calm down," insisted Rogue. "It's not the end of the world."

"Yeah, I know," said Kitty, who was a bit exasperated. "But _still_ . . ."

"Sorry, Kitty," replied Kurt sheepishly. "I was only trying to help." Then he returned to his seat.

Logan shook his head and turned to Xavier. "Are you still sure you don't want us to get rid of these things?" He pointed to the chandeliers.

Rogue smiled. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

"All for the better," replied Logan in a teasing manner. "Then you didn't have to talk with your mouth full." She replied by sticking her tongue out.

"For the sake of changing the subject," interrupted Xavier, eager to end the dispute before it began, "I just noticed that there is a new opera at that theater your class went to this week, Rogue."

"Hey, I went too!" put in Kitty, although now her mouth was full.

Ororo sighed. Xavier smiled as he heard her comment about the need to give these children some lessons in etiquette. "Yes, I know, Kitty. I merely chose to address Rogue to spare you the embarrassment of speaking with your mouth full."

The girl immediately took the hint and hushed up.

"Anyway," the Professor continued, "I just thought that maybe you would be interested in knowing what it is. I recall that the last opera wasn't too much of a thrill for you."

"Well, maybe it would have been if Mr. Elbert had given us a little insight about the story first," answered Rogue. "It wasn't terrible, but not really that interesting."

"Well, you may want to give that place another try, because I think you will like this opera."

Rogue gave him a puzzled look. "What is it?"

"_Der Vampyr_ by Heinrich Marschner. Sounds like something up your alley, don't you agree?"

She seemed to be in shock for a moment, then receded into deep thought. Logan sat three seats away from her, with Kitty and Kurt in between, but even from there he could see that this strange coincidence had some importance to her.

After a few moments, Xavier spoke up again. "Don't you agree, Rogue?"

Rogue was quickly brought back to reality and replied, "Well, yeah. Actually, I was planning to go back to the opera anyway on Saturday."

Logan raised his eyebrows and looked at Xavier. They both had the same thought. That _was_ quite a coincidence. In the week that Rogue makes her first two visits to the opera, there is a dramatic change in productions, and the newer one is a genre that Rogue is in love with.

Logan looked at Xavier again. "Does it say how this change came about?"

The Professor looked down at the article. "Only that 'in the best interest of the Bayville community, we will present a production of a more contemporary style, to expand our opera expertise for all audiences to see and enjoy.'"

"Weird," noted Kitty. "Who would think more people would go to see a vampire opera than a Mozart opera?"

"Lots of people," retaliated Rogue in a defensive tone. She hadn't meant to snap at Kitty like that. In reality, she wasn't trying to defend herself.

"Sheesh, sorry," said Kitty, now put off by Rogue's outburst.

"I must admit, it's a very unusual subject for an opera," said Xavier. "Not for a rock opera, but for classical music it seems a bit out of place."

"Well, we shouldn't jump to conclusions," said Rogue, much more calmly this time. "It may be good."

"I'm not saying it _won't_ be good, Rogue," explained Xavier, "but it seems nonetheless a bit odd. Certainly not something I would expect this opera company to produce. I can only imagine who put them up to it."

"They'd have to be pretty good persuaders in order to get that show on their stage," commented Logan, who was sneaking a few subtle glances at the Goth. She no longer looked at anyone else, but was greatly engrossed in the dimensions of her croissant as she stared at it endlessly.

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After breakfast the rest of the students that were still in school were taking off. Although school was over for Scott and Jean, they still enjoyed giving rides to anybody who wanted one. In fact, most of the students insisted that they take them. Rogue was considering whether she would catch a ride with them or take her bike, when somebody caught her by the arm.

"Hey, Stripes," greeted Logan. "I was just wondering – would you mind if I drove you to school today?"

She was very surprised by the question. "Why?"

"I just want to talk a little. You've been busy with studying for exams and all, and I thought since you would be gone for most of tomorrow and Sunday, I figured this would probably the best time to have a little chat. Whaddaya say?"

Rogue was a little hesitant for a moment. She figured that there was something specific he wanted to talk to her about, and she couldn't help but be a little worried over that. She was reluctant to answer any questions, even to Logan. However, perhaps it might have been better if she had someone to talk to at least a little about it. It might end up making her feel a little better. And hey, it was Logan. While he is world-famous, or at least mansion-famous, for his lectures; but he was understanding towards her. He knew about a lot of the things she was going through, and he was a great confidant. Finally she gave him a small smile and said, "Sure. Why not?"

Logan smiled back and walked with her to the X-Van. He hadn't realized how much he missed their conversations. He had forced himself to accept it, since she was just a kid and he was an adult. And yet he didn't think of it that way. Or at least, he didn't see it as being that simple. Rogue had been through a lot in her life, more than most kids her age should ever have to be through. She had to adjust herself to a life without any physical intimacy since she was little. She had learned to obtain a level of maturity a bit above that of most other kids. Somehow she didn't really seem like just another kid. Of course, she still was a teen physically, and there are certain things about teens that can never be changed. But she was quickly ascending from that level. Everyday she was growing a little stronger and little more confident. She still needed support from those she considered her friends, but who doesn't? He was proud of her, in a way. He didn't doubt that she was going to become a very strong and powerful woman and X-Man. Still, he worried about her sometimes.

As they got into the car and he started the engine, he tried to figure out how he would approach her with the topic in his mind in a gentle, non-threatening or prying way. Yeah, like that was an easy task. Sometimes it was really hard to talk to Rogue in just the right way, especially about things she didn't want to hear. But if someone like Logan knew her well enough, they could try to communicate with her with minimal head-biting. For a few minutes neither of them spoke. The silence was alright for a little while, since it gave Logan some time to think. But before too long, he knew he needed to get the conversation going. "So, you and your class went to the opera on Monday, huh? Whaddya think?"

Rogue shrugged. "It was so-so. Like I said to the Prof, I kind of wish we had had a chance to learn about the opera before we went to see it."

"I think you also had some kind of assignment for the trip. Am I right?"

"Yeah. We had to interview someone from the cast, crew, of orchestra."

"Who did you interview?"

Rogue was quiet for a moment. She remembered that she technically didn't interview Mr. Fenton, but he did write an interview for her which was supposedly by her about him. So, saying that she had interviewed him would not have been completely incorrect.

"A violinist. Erik Fenton, I think."

"What did you learn about him? Was he interesting?"

"Oh yeah, he was interesting. I don't really remember anything about him personally . . ." She hadn't had time to look at exactly what the interview said.

"But if he really was interesting, how come you don't remember anything about him?"

"It really wasn't important. I found him interesting just by talking to him." She was becoming just a little nervous about that subject, afraid to give something away when she had no idea what she was supposed to hide.

"Well, what was he like?" Logan could tell she was trying to avoid the issue. He knew that the thing she was avoiding was the thing he needed to know more about.

"Alright. Kind of mysterious, grim, but not in a negative way. Rather . . . it made him unique. An enigma." As she remembered him, the feelings of part wonder, part curiosity, and part suspicion were provoked again. "He certainly wasn't what I was expecting from a musician."

Logan took a moment to imbibe this information. Rogue clearly seemed drawn to this man in some strange way, whether from attraction or pure curiosity he couldn't tell yet. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to understand her feelings until he met the man himself. Ever since Gambit, Logan had become cautious about the men that Rogue formed relationships with. He was just worried about her well being, in his mind. Xavier was beginning to believe it was something else, but he ignored it.

"Is he the reason you're going back to the opera tomorrow?"

Rogue could hear the concern and apprehensiveness in his voice now. "He asked me to come." After a pause, she continued. "Look, I know that you think I shouldn't trust this man that I just met. He did seem dark and strange, but I didn't sense any harmful aura about him or anything. I don't think he has any reason to hurt me." As she spoke, butterflies began fluttering in her stomach. She wanted to trust Mr. Fenton. For some reason she really wanted to trust him. And yet she knew she was feeling almost the exact same feelings as Logan was. Sometimes with certain people you just can't tell. Mr. Fenton seemed to realize her concern and tried to convince her that he meant no harm, and he had spoken with such sincerity. If she sensed that it was just an act, she would have been a lot more suspicious of him. But she felt a need to trust him, despite the risk. The worst part was she couldn't tell if it was her instinct or something else that was making her feel this way. She let out a quiet sigh and rested her head against the window. It was a much smoother ride than the school bus, and it helped her to feel more at ease.

Logan wondered if the long silence and the final sigh meant that Rogue was thinking over her opinion about this musician. He didn't want to put her on the spot, but he did believe it was better to make her think twice. Finally, he said, "Are you going alone?"

"No. Kurt and Kitty are coming."

He felt a great relief in that. At least there wasn't much of a chance that the violinist would try to do some kind of harm. Perhaps it was wrong to think of a man he hadn't even met in such terms, but that was Logan. He hardly trusted anybody. He certainly preferred Rogue to be safe than sorry, at least until she learned more about the man. And perhaps after he met him. But that would have to wait, since Logan didn't think he was going to be visiting the opera any time soon.

"I just want you to be careful, okay? And if you need any help, just call me." His voice was slightly shaky as he spoke, and he wanted to kick himself. But Rogue just smiled.

"Don't worry. I'm an X-Man, remember? If I can survive Apocalypse and your Danger Room sessions, I can survive anything."

Logan let himself smile again. "Well, that's what training is for. By the way, we're here."

Rogue looked out, and sure enough they were in front of the school. "Well, thanks." She opened the door and stepped out. Before she walked away, she turned to Logan. "Hey, are you doing anything this afternoon?"

He thought about it. "No. Don't think so."

She paused a moment, tapping her fingers on the window frame (since the window was down). When she looked up at him, her dark lips turned up into another graceful smile, the third one that day. _Must be a record,_ Logan thought. But this one was a little different. It had some strange enchantment behind it.

"Do you think you could pick me up after school? Out here, right in front?"

Logan was slightly surprised, but he smirked and answered, "Sure thing."

Still wearing that same smile, Rogue pulled the strap of her backpack up to her left shoulder, then turned and walked up the steps to the school.

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Yay. So, what do you think? Let me know, pweeeeeeaaaasssseee! Yeah, I bet this gets really annoying after a while. Well, if you don't like it, REVIEW: )


	5. Back to the Opera

Hehe, here we go. Again, thanks for all of your reviews. As for the Romyness, well . . . there will be some, but don't expect any fluff or anything. We have enough of that floating around this site. I should warn you that there will be a little Rogan stuff going on too, but nothing major. Actually, I've been in the habit of writing stories with Rogan friendship/pairing, so this will actually be my first story that has any Romy action. To be perfectly honest, I don't really know how the couples are going to end up at the end. So be prepared. Mwahahahaha . . .

Already did disclaimer. Mwahahahaha . . . .

BTW, I can hear someone playing 92 ProFM next door and this is the hundredth time _today_ – just _today_ – that it has played 'Don't Want to Be Lonely Anymore.' Is this a sign?

Anyway, on to da fic!

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"Thanks for the ride, Mr. Logan!"

As Kitty spoke, she tripped over the toe of her shoe, sending the three students tumbling out of the car.

Logan chuckled slightly. "No problem. Call me or Xavier when you're ready to be picked up. Remember, curfew's at eleven. If you don't call by ten, should I assume you've been kidnapped?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Very funny. We'll be fine. Besides, it's the weekend and it's almost summer. Why is curfew still at eleven?"

"We had an agreement. _The day_ you graduate from school, curfew goes to one. Not before, no matter how close vacation is. It's only one more week."

"Yeah, Rogue, and we still have exams to study for. It's not like any of us are gonna be out at eleven o'clock at night dancing till we drop." There was Kitty for you. She did love to party but studying came first.

_How studious of her_, thought Rogue.

"Come on, guys!" cried Kurt. "The opera starts in ten minutes. Don't you want to get good seats?"

Kitty sighed. "Kurt, our seats are already on our tickets. This isn't the movie theater. Nobody's going to take our seats."

"Oh," he replied, sounding a little disappointed.

"Don't worry. The Prof got us good seats," Rogue reassured him.

Logan rolled his eyes and started mumbling to himself. "Yeah, always the one to spoil the kids. He's the _nice_ teacher. Then I give 'em something they really need, like survival training, and what do I get? A water bomb in the glove compartment of the van."

"Uh, I think Mr. Logan is, like, talking to himself again," noted Kitty. "It's like, totally creeping me out."

Rogue cracked a smile. "Let's just get inside. See ya, Logan!"

The teacher gave a quick wave and drove off, still mumbling to himself.

"He needs to get out more," commented Kurt, half-joking, half-serious.

>>>>>>

"Wow! That was . . . awesome!" Kurt's German accent was always more rich and salient when he got excited about something.

"I know!" concurred Rogue. Her heart was actually pounding. That usually only happened during Danger Room sessions.

"Man, that scared the crap out of me!" cried Kitty, clearly shaken. "It was down-right freaky!"

"Oh, come on, Kitty! You've seen worse horror movies! It wasn't even gory!"

"I mean the whole thing with the vampire passing himself off as a potential husband, and then kills his lovers at the most unsuspecting moment!"

"So? That kind of thing happens all the time in vampire love stories" Kurt too had read such stories before, with the influence of his sister.

"Yeah, but-" she paused as she shivered slightly, "it's still really creepy."

In truth, Rogue really wasn't surprised by that. But it also wasn't just the story that she had enjoyed. It was the music too. Much more enthralling and engrossing than that Mozart opera she went to. It coaxed her into listening more consciously, rather than just letting the notes fly over her head without a care. Just by listening to it, she felt a variety of emotions, from fear to excitement to sensuality. It fit with the theme and story very well.

"Well, in my opinion," said Kurt, "I give it two thumbs up!"

Rogue nodded in agreement, but now another desire was tugging at her. "Hey, guys, don't you think we should look for Mr. Fenton?"

"Yeah, I guess so," said Kitty nervously; whether from the opera or from meeting that musician again Rogue was not really sure.

"Yeah, let's go!" Kurt was much excited. "We're gonna go backstage, right?"

"Well, if we can," Rogue answered. The thought had only occurred to her at that moment. Last time the class had backstage passes. How would they get in this time?

She and Kitty went by the same entrance as they did last time, with Kurt in tow. But when they reached the door, the man there said, "Cast, crew, and orchestra only."

Kitty sighed. "Well, I guess we can't get in. Maybe we should just wait out hear until Mr. Fenton comes out."

Kurt looked disappointed. "Aw, I wish we had a chance to see the backstage. It sounds really cool."

The three of them stood near the door for a moment. Then Rogue suddenly spoke up. "Wait! I just remembered something!" She grabbed Kitty and Kurt and pulled them further down the hallway. After a bit of walking they found an old door that was strangely unnoticed by almost everyone else.

"Hey, that door," said Kitty, with a tone of wonder in her voice. "I've never noticed it before, and yet . . ."

"That was the door Mr. Fenton and I came out of during the trip. That was how we escaped from the backstage."

"Weird. I don't think I noticed it when I spotted you two. It really looks like some closet door, not a stage door."

Rogue placed her hand on the knob and gave it a turn. The door popped open. Inside was the same hustle and bustle that the girls had witnessed just a few days before.

The friends walked in and Rogue closed the door. They quickly began looking around for their long-lost musician who didn't seem to be anywhere. Just then another one of those bouncers came up to them.

"Do you have backstage passes?"

The three of them looked at one another nervously, not knowing what to do.

"Well, sir," began Kitty, "we-"

"If you don't have passes, then I have to take you out of here." He grabbed Rogue by the arm, but the girl immediately resisted. "Let me go! You don't need to grab me! Let go!"

Kitty and Kurt joined in the quarrel and fought against the bouncer, who was trying to drag them to the main entrance to the backstage area.

Rogue felt desperate. "We're just looking for someone who-"

"You will wait outside!" snarled the bouncer, becoming rougher by the minute to shake Rogue down.

She looked down at her gloved hand. She didn't want to, but the more the bouncer knocked her around, the stronger the temptation became.

_No, I shouldn't. It's just a touch though. But, if I use my powers . . ._

"Is there a problem here?" A deep, almost threatening voice came from behind the bouncer. Suddenly becoming quite nervous, he looked around along with the kids.

There was Mr. Fenton, taller and darker than Rogue remembered, with his hand behind his back and his brow furrowed, his dark dangerous eyes on the muscular bouncer. He seemed so skinny in comparison with the thug, and yet the thug seemed quite alarmed. The musician possessed a much stronger and intimidating presence than that of the bouncer.

"Uh, no, sir. I was just taking care of these-"

"They're with me, Adrian. Let them go."

The bouncer immediately released them without another thought or word, then returned to his post near the entrance. He didn't give any of them a second glance.

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. He must have a really important position or something. I thought you said he was a musician, Rogue."

"I . . . did." Rogue looked with amazement at her acquaintance. She now recalled his commanding air when he gave her the instructions regarding the envelope, but it was nothing at all compared to this.

Mr. Fenton stepped forward. "I _am_ a musician. I just so happen to have Adrian in my debt. He acts like he has backbone, but he really doesn't. He's the stuff the average bully is made of. I am glad that you could make it, Miss Darkholme, along with your other friends."

"Well, I guess I am too. I – we've been anxious to see you again."

His eyes gave off that strange, omniscient glow as he smiled. "I'm sure you have."

"Well," said Kurt in his usual friendly manner. "Should we grab something to eat? I'm starved!"

Rogue stared at him. "Kurt, we had lunch a little before Logan brought us here. You shouldn't be hungry."

"But I am! And that was four hours ago! I need to keep up my metabolism."

Mr. Fenton chuckled. "Come, there's a little restaurant just a few blocks from here where we can talk. I'm sure you will be immensely satisfied, Mr. . . "

"Wagner. Kurt Wagner." He made sure to stress the German accent a bit more. There was no doubt that he was proud of his heritage.

"Ah, the same name as the great composer," noted the violinist.

"Hey, you listen to German composers?" Kurt grew more and more excited, making Rogue worried that he would explode.

"I do find his technique and style very interesting. Do you like to listen to classical music?"

"Well . . . sometimes, if it's really cool. I'm not too picky about what music's on, as long as I can stand it."

Suddenly, another man in a black and white tuxedo came up from behind Mr. Fenton. "Going somewhere, Fenton?"

The man's tone was cold and not too pleasant. The darkness that surrounded the musician earlier when he faced the bouncer returned, only he did not display his commanding presence. This time he was supposed to have the subservient role. However, he was not afraid as Adrian had.

He turned in the direction of his superior. "As a matter of fact, yes. I have an appointment with my friends here. Is there something you wish to speak to me about?"

The other man was unmoved. "I have no time for your sly comments, Fenton. Now please excuse yourself from your companies and come with me."

Mr. Fenton glanced over at the teens, then back to the other man. "Will this take long?" He seemed used to this kind of thing, and was not quick to let himself be pushed around.

"As long as it must," snarled the man. "The less of your smart-ass comments I have to hear, the less time this issue will take up. Now, if you please."

The man make a quick turn to his right and marched off, waiting for Mr. Fenton to follow. The latter seemed greatly unnerved and irritated. However, he remained courteous and gave his new acquaintances a polite nod. "If you will excuse me for just a moment. This wouldn't take long. As soon as I'm finished we will set off."

"Don't worry," Rogue assured him. "We'll be fine."

"I hope you're not in trouble," added Kitty in a concerned tone, which of late was becoming habitual.

"If I am, you need not worry. I've been in tighter messes." With that he walked in the path of the man who wished to speak with him.

"He must be the conductor," surmised Rogue. "They are the ones that the musicians have to answer to."

"You're probably right," said Kitty. "I wonder what he did."

"He didn't really seem like a nice guy," put in Kurt.

Rogue shot another look at him. "What? What's wrong with Mr. Fenton?"

"No, no, not him. I meant the conductor. Mr. Fenton's alright."

"Although he did seem pretty tough around Adrian and that other guy," Kitty noted again.

"Well duh," commented Rogue, "sure he didn't act too nice around them. Adrian was pushing us around and he had to stand up to him. And he and that conductor don't seem to be on the best of terms."

The group decided to wait near the main entrance. After about ten minutes, they were beginning to get anxious.

"I wonder what's taking them so long?" asked Kitty.

Kurt smiled a little. "Maybe Mr. Fenton keeps giving the conductor some 'smart-ass' comments. You know, it can be a bad habit."

"Yes, Kurt," responded Rogue, rolling her eyes toward him. "I know you've had a lot of experience with that."

Kurt shrugged. "Hey, what teen doesn't?"

After a few more minutes, Rogue finally said, "You know, I think I'll check on them. Just to see what's up."

"I don't know, Rogue," said Kitty in an apprehensive tone. "You really shouldn't bother them. What if they see you?"

"Don't get your skirt all twisted up. They're not gonna see me, I promise."

The other two thought about it. After a moment of silent conversing, Kurt said, "Well, I guess it's okay. Just don't disturb them if they're still talking. And above all, don't get caught."

"Hey," said Rogue, "do I look stupid to you?"

"Um . . .no?"

She groaned. "It was a rhetorical question."

Kurt looked puzzled. "A what?"

It was Kitty's turn to groan. "Oh Kurt!"

"While you explain it to him," instructed Rogue, "I'll find Mr. Fenton and the conductor."

So she left her two friends to themselves and wandered further onto the backstage. It had quieted down a lot since they first entered, although there were still quite a few people still around. But the confusion and madness had passed, and things were much more organized. Even so, Rogue had a bit of a difficult time finding the pair of tuxedo men. She kept wandering further and further backstage, peeking between the many curtains that were hanging around.

Finally, she heard the voice that she was pretty sure was the conductors. She only had heard him a few times, but the cold, disciplinary tone in his voice was unmistakable.

"Fenton, you're not here to give artist insight. You're here to play music, like everybody else. You think you know so much about music and theater and all that jazz. If you know so much, why don't you just build an opera house of your own?"

Fenton was silent. Rogue still couldn't see them, but the silence still felt bothersome and cold.

"While you're here, you have respects to pay to those who are above you, including me. I've put up with your snide comments for far too long. You think I don't know what you've been doing to the producers? You're the one who keeps coming up with all of these crazy ideas and schemes. Believe me, I'm not the only one who's getting tired of it. You need to let the managers do their job while you do yours, or you're going to find your sorry butt back on the street. You get my drift?"

"Is it my fault that the managers are so damn stubborn that they don't even realize what poor taste they have?"

"There you go again! It's none of your business! You're just a musician, Fenton, a poor musician who can't even keep his music in order! Just this week you managed to destroy your sheet music for nearly all of the violin score from 'The Marriage of Figaro.' I had to ask the managers for money to buy a new copy, and I ended up looking like a fool, as if it was _my_ fault! Don't you get it, Fenton! You don't mean anything. You're insignificant. Stop thinking you are more than what you are."

Rogue's throat tightened up. This was partly her fault. If she hadn't bumped into Mr. Fenton, he wouldn't be in trouble for something he didn't even do. She was also furious at the way the conductor was treating him, that he was nothing more than a musician.

_Man, I'd sure like to give that guy a piece of my mind!_

"To be perfectly honest, Wilson, I pity your narrow-mindedness. It is a curse that seems to expose itself in many of our fellow men. You can only see the world for what it is, that there is nothing beyond what we already know or see. In truth, there is much more than you can possibly imagine. If I am, as you put it, insignificant, than we must all be doomed to the same label. Are we insignificant, even if we make a difference? Does it amount to anything? I often wonder why we are here in the first place, a world of evil and suffering. What is the point, really? Are some of us put here as some kind of joke to a being much greater than us? And yet, somehow, I do find purpose in my life. It is this – music. Somehow it has always been there, lasting through the centuries, even through the darkest ages. When I play the music, not just as _music_, but as something that is intrinsic to my life, my very being, it is hard to feel insignificant. Have you ever felt that way? Have you _ever_ thought of music or anything else in that way? Yes, Wilson, I must admit that despite the woes I have suffered, I do _truly_ pity you."

Rogue was awestruck. A musician _and_ a philosopher? His tone had been caustic, yet had a certain ring of genuine understanding and sincerity in his profession. He used his convictions as a weapon against the conductor Wilson, his opponent. She could not even imagine how Wilson would respond.

She soon found out.

Finally, the point was reached.

"ENOUGH WITH YOUR DAMN INTELLECTUALISM! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

"Gladly," replied Fenton calmly, then walked out from behind a curtain nearby. As Wilson proceeded to go on a rampage behind the curtain, Rogue and Fenton spotted each other.

"Miss Darkholme," he uttered, somewhat surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I . . . I didn't mean to . . . well . . ."

_Dammit, Rogue! You weren't supposed to get caught, remember?_ She tried to think of an excuse as fast as she could.

"I just . . . came looking for you. Really, just now."

Fenton placed his hand on his hip. "Miss, may I ask you something?"

She gulped. "Yes."

"How stupid do you think I am?"

She immediately felt her cheeks burning. She felt awful, and wished once more that she would disappear. But, of course, she didn't.

_I've got to stop making that wish._

"Not at all," she finally replied. "I don't think you're stupid at all."

"I'm glad to here it." He approached her, looking her square in the face. She focused her eyes on the floor, not wanting to see his expression. Then, to her surprise, she felt his finger under her chin as he tipped her face up to his. She hadn't noticed he was wearing black gloves.

"Don't beat yourself up about it," he said in a quiet, calming voice. "You're looking at a professional eavesdropper. Tell me, did you think me unintelligent or in any way ignorant?"

Rogue didn't answer right away. She felt so confused as she stared at his eyes. There was something so strange and yet amazing about them that she couldn't put her finger on. Everything about his character seemed hidden, inscrutable, that she could only learn more about it a little bit at a time.

Realizing she hadn't answered him, she said, "I . . . I don't really know. I don't think so now, but before . . . the truth is, I don't know you that well. After all, we've only just met."

He gave her an understanding nod. "I have a habit of keeping myself at a distance so most cannot easily read my character like some open book." Then he added in a slightly sadder tone, "Trusting others is not one of my strong suits."

Rogue bit her lip, not knowing what to say. Then he added, "Do you know why I wanted to get to know you better?"

She shook her head slightly.

"Because you seem to be that way too."

She felt so awkward. What was wrong with her? She had this weird feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had the hardest time getting rid of. She had no idea what to do next, or what he was going to do next. They were just standing there, looking into each other's eyes, trying to figure the other person out.

At last, Mr. Fenton lowered his hand from her chin. She almost felt like she was being released from some spell. But she shook the thought off as soon as it came to her.

"Come. Your friends are probably worried about you. We should be heading off."

"Oh. Right." Quickly turning around, she with Fenton following went back the route by which she came, and they soon were back at the entrance. Kitty and Kurt were more than relieved.

"Man, where have you _been?_" cried Kurt. "I'm dying over here from hunger and torture by Kitty."

Kitty sighed. "We got bored and started playing little games, like trying to guess the tune of a song."

"Yeah, and now 'The Wheels on the Bus' song is stuck in my head. Can we _please_ get going?"

Rogue smiled and rolled her eyes. "Sure. Are you ready, Mr. Fenton?"

"Quite. Let's go."

The group headed out of the area and exited the opera house, with Fenton politely holding the door open for them. As Rogue, the last one out, passed him, he whispered to her, "By the way, just call me Erik."

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Aaah, it's glad to know that one's work is appreciated. Of course, that usually only happens when readers REVIEW. So please, even if you're only passing by, please leave me one. It gets so lonely down here, in my little lair where I spend my time watching the special features on DVDs like PotO, Spider-man and Antz and writing stories. At least until my sister gets home from camp. Ehehehe. Well, see ya.


	6. Getting to Know You

Yes, another long wait till the next update. Sorry for those of you who have been waiting. I really wanted to make this chapter good. I just started reading "Phantom" by Susan Kay and I've been double checking on all of the things I've done and am planning to do with our beloved Opera Ghost. I do hope I remain very faithful to the character without making him too OOC. I'm really not trying to, but this is a kind of "what if" situation. Oh well, one can only attempt to do their best. Thanks for your support! Luv ya! Uh . . . you know what I mean. While I can't guarantee that I'll update more quickly, I will try. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

To da fic!

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The little café was only two blocks away from the opera, which was good news for Kurt. As soon as the group reached its destination, Kurt ran up to the counter and ordered a chocolate muffin with chocolate chips along with a large cup of Pepsi.

"Your friend has quite an appetite," noted Erik, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, that's Kurt for ya," replied Rogue. "Although he usually is inclined to chili-cheese burgers rather than breakfast food. But if he's hungry enough, he'll eat anything."

"And we mean _anything_," emphasized Kitty. "Once we had a fire drill at our school just before lunch, and it lasted for an hour. Kurt was so desperate he ate half of his loose-leaf paper supply. So he has to be satisfied at all times."

"I suppose he has a high metabolism," concluded Erik. "He must be very active."

"Well, yeah," said Kitty, "considering all the tele-"

Rogue snapped a sharp glance at her. Kitty realized her near slip-up in the nick of time, but she was too scared to continue. When she didn't, Erik looked at her. "All the what?"

Kitty hesitated for a moment, then nervously replied, "All the tele . . . phone calls he makes to his girlfriend Amanda. They talk for hours. Yak-yak-yak-yak-yak."

Kitty giggled nervously while Rogue rolled her eyes without Erik noticing. _Nice recovery._

Erik raised his eyebrows again, then seemed to accept the answer and moved on. "Where would you like to sit?"

"Uh, how 'bout over there, at that big window facing the street? It's fun watching the people pass by." Kitty was still trying to make up for her mistake, more to Rogue than to Erik. She looked over at her Goth friend, who at this point had just one eyebrow raised in a fashion that the valley girl also received from Logan whenever she did anything "odd," like ask him for fashion tips. Kitty could only give her a helpless shrug.

"If that is your wish, I suppose it will do." The girls both noticed the reluctance in the musician's voice. While he was willing to accommodate, Erik didn't seem too eager to sit in the direct view of the outside.

"Well, is there somewhere else you would prefer to sit, Mr. Fenton?" offered Rogue.

He turned to her. "To be honest, I am more in favor of sitting near the back. I'm more private than most people care for."

"That's alright," she replied. "We can sit near the back if you wish." She herself preferred that position over the one next to the window. In her mind there was really nothing odd about that.

Kitty had a different opinion. She would never in a million years criticize someone who had been so polite to them, even taking them to a café. Still, she cast a longing glance toward the windows. Unlike the two more private characters beside her, she did prefer being in the open and around many people. At the moment, however, it was two against one.

Suddenly, Kurt came up. He had half of his muffin stuffed into his mouth. "Hey guys! Where are we sitting?"

"Well . . . I did suggest sitting near the front, but Rogue and Mr. Fenton prefer sitting in the back."

Kurt paused a moment, considering the situation. "Well, I wouldn't mind sitting in the front, either. It's a beautiful day outside and –"

"But Mr. Fenton might feel uncomfortable," Kitty whispered. She felt very awkward at that moment, talking about a man who was standing right in front of her.

Finally, Erik sighed. "It really is quite alright to sit by the window. I don't mind."

Almost abruptly, Rogue spoke up. "Wait. Why don't Erik and I sit in the back while you guys sit by the windows? We'll still be able to see each other easily and everyone feels comfortable."

The others thought about this for a moment. Then Erik smiled. "That sounds like a promising resolution. What about you two?"

"Sounds good to me," replied Kurt.

Kitty took an extra moment to consider, then she finally agreed. "Well, okay. If everyone's cool with that, then that's the plan. We'll just let each other know when we're ready to leave. That good?"

Kurt and Rogue nodded. Erik seemed to wince slightly, but he gave a consenting nod as well. So Kurt and Kitty ran over to the available table next to the third window from the door, while Rogue and Erik took a table in the far corner of the café, where it was the darkest. It felt refreshingly cool after the humidity of the outside. Not that Rogue really minded it so much, but it was a relief all the same.

She looked at Erik as they sat down. "What's the matter?"

"Beg pardon?" he answered, a bit taken by surprise.

"You had that pained look on your face after Kitty spoke. What was wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. Just that . . . the thing is, I study languages, and grammar is a sensitive subject for me at times. It seems that the youth of America is not too keen on its grammar skills. I know it seems very silly, but it's a pet peeve that cannot be eradicated I'm afraid."

Rogue gave quiet laugh. "Trust me, you can get that way just from being around Kitty, even if you never cared about grammar before. She can really mutilate it. Sometimes it's kind of funny, but mostly it gets on my nerves."

Erik nodded. "Well, I am glad we have a chance to be alone. After all, you did promise me."

"Yeah, I know. So, what is it you want to know?"

Rogue allowed her left elbow to rest on the tabletop while she placed the hand of the same arm under her jaw, allowing her to stare at her companion without being tempted to turn away or become distracted. Erik rested his large hands on the table, folding them in manner very similar to that of the Professor. Not in the steeple fashion that the Professor also did when he was thinking very thoroughly about something, but the simple card-holding position that he usually used when he was relaxed or prepared to speak with someone in a calm, open-minded (yet analytical) manner. She could predict just by the position of this man's hands the style of conversation he was planning to approach her with.

"For the past three years, I have been searching the globe trying to find where I belong, what I must do. For the greater part of my life, I obtained a great deal of knowledge about the world, and yet I believed I could do nothing for it. For my own personal reasons, I felt I could not serve something that I did not . . . feel would appreciate whatever I did, whether I lived or died. But something happened, something that forced me to adjust to a new look on life. The world changed for me, as in no way that I have ever experienced it before. I realized that I needed to expand out, that staying in my current situation was doom for me. I felt a need to start over, in the absurd hope that maybe fate would be kinder than it had been in my former life."

He paused, allowing Rogue to take this in and answer him when she believed it was appropriate. "Well, has it?"

He sighed. "I'm afraid not by much. For you see, I realized what I lacked in my former life I also lacked in this life. Do you know what that is?"

Rogue could only shake her head like a young child, having no true understanding of what the older man was saying.

"People to whom I could relate. People who were more like . . . me. "

Rogue gave him a puzzled look. "Really? Why?"

He chuckled. "At your age I might have thought the same, were I speaking to myself. Oh, the things I could tell my younger self, the warnings and bits of advice, if it were only possible. Anyway, once you have endured what I have, companionship would probably be the only thing you would wish for. Well, perhaps one or two things, but they are trivial at this time. I have lived a very lonely life, despite my world-winning adventures. After three years I have finally come here, still searching."

"Why here? What makes you think what you are looking for is here?"

"Oh, many things. The culture, the accumulating knowledge and discovery in science and technology – did you know that I am a scientist? Well, not in the most conventional manner, but I have much knowledge of the subject, mostly chemistry, architecture and engineering."

Rogue stared at him open-mouthed. She was now sitting up, at full attention. After a moment she collected herself and spoke. "You are just full of surprises. One moment you're a musician, next you're some kind of philosopher, and now you're a _scientist_? What _are_ you exactly? Why a musician when you could be so many other things?"

Erik leaned back in his seat, seeming more spent by the moment. Strangely his face did not seem any paler, although it was on the pale side by nature; but he did appear very tired, almost like one who lost more than one night's worth of sleep. Perhaps his spirit was exhausted as well, for from what he had already related to her, he had done a lot of traveling in his life and was hoping for some light at the end of the tunnel, but was doubtful he would find it. She already began to feel a hint of pity for him, and it was only the beginning.

"My other talents serve only as my hobbies, little tasks to take up my time in this life. Music alone truly touches me in a way that it is intrinsic to my soul, my essence. It is my only form of expression and relief from the dark, heavy feelings that often possess me. I do not suppose you would have ever guessed that about me."

"Perhaps I would, if you would just let me get to know you." The tension in Rogue's voice gave away her impatience. The feeling did not arise from sitting through Erik's rant; quite the contrary, she found it quite interesting. What annoyed her was that whenever he mentioned something she had not known about him, he would give her this look like she should have known that, and yet he seemed to enjoy the fact that she did not know these things about him. It made it difficult for her to figure out if he wanted her to get to know him better, or not.

Erik leaned forward again. He studied her features for a moment. Her cheeks had flushed momentarily from her shortening temper, her eyes becoming more penetrating. He reacted to this with a slight grin. Not the usual, mischievous or sardonic grin that Rogue had begun getting used to, but a half guilty, half sad smile that seemed to display his regret for unintentionally egging Rogue on. "My apologies. Such reflections often get me carried away. I am not used to society and am not trained in the etiquette of conversation."

"That really isn't the problem. I mean, I don't do well with other people either. It's just that . . . it just bugs me when men think they have to be so aloof around people, especially around women. What is that with you guys?"

Erik was once more taken by surprised. Even more this time. "Do you categorize all men in such a way?"

"Apparently all the men that I know. Except Kurt, but he's a different story."

He furrowed his brow, taking a moment to think. His eyes seemed so deep and black, like two bottomless holes going on forever, deep into his shadowed soul. The darker part of his essence seemed to discharge out of his body, like a vapor, surrounding him. Something Rogue had said had placed him in a darker mood.

"I would think someone with a disposition such as yours would be more understanding."

Rogue grew slightly anxious, the dark cloud surrounding him becoming more evident. "Look, I didn't mean that . . . it's just that . . . it just seems to be a natural thing in men to distance themselves from others. If you underwent some traumatic experience in your life, that's different. But if it's just to avoid expressing your feelings –"

"My _life_ was a traumatic experience. Every minute of it!" His voice had grown angrier. He seemed ready to break out in a fit of rage. His fists had tensed, his lips were tightly drawn back. Yet his face did not have the usual lines and crinkles that occurred when one became as enraged as he. She mistook this as a lacking capacity of full expression in his face. She would have expected him, by the tone of his voice, to display more of his rage facially as well as verbally. The thought, however, did not stay long in her mind. She grew more worried about his actions to follow and what had caused them.

_What is the matter with him?_

A tense moment passed, him with his eyes that could burn a hole in the table, and Rogue staring back with her cool emerald eyes, displaying concern for him as well as confusion. As he stared at the cold yet anxious gems, his fire seemed to be quelled. He began to relax, allowing himself to fall back into his seat. While the dark cloud about him did not completely recede, it was no longer menacing. He seemed ashamed and saddened, refusing to let his eyes meet hers.

"Please, forgive me. I . . . I do not know what came over me. I know you did not mean any harm. Yet, sometimes . . . oh, it is not worth explaining."

The last bit cut into the girl like a knife. Not worth explaining! What had they just been talking about a minute ago?

"That's bull! Of course it's worth explaining!"

She hadn't meant to be so loud, though. Several people in the café had heard her comment and were staring at her. She immediately noticed the crowd and sank back into her chair a bit.

The comment had been enough to make Erik look at her again. He too seemed greatly surprised, but his reaction took a different turn. He laughed. A genuinely amused laugh. The rest of the café patrons gave confused and questionable looks to one another, then returned to their own conversations.

Rogue could feel her cheeks burning. _Again_. How was it that every time she was in Erik's company, she always ended up embarrassing herself?

She finally looked at Erik, who returned her look with one of sympathy as well as amusement.

"Believe me, it is you who is more full of surprises than I."

Rogue looked into her lap. "Sometimes I speak before I think. I know it's a bad habit, but –"

"Yes, a bad habit, but a comforting one at that. I often admire the unfortunate soul who cannot help but speak their mind."

"Well, I admit that speaking one's mind isn't the same as speaking one's feelings." She sighed. "I guess I should be more understanding. But it's not as if every guy you meet has some life-altering issues."

"True," admitted Erik, "and perhaps I suffer from that as well. Do you indeed have difficulty expressing yourself to others?"

Rogue fiddled with the index finger of one of her gloves, still feeling a little awkward. "If they knew everything about me, they wouldn't like me. I don't want to have to cry on someone's shoulder whenever I have a problem. I can deal with it."

He let a moment pass after her comment, then replied, "I guess that answers my question."

"Well, it's true. Nobody wants to be a crying towel. Everyone's got their own problems. Imagine trying to take on other people's problems while you're trying to deal with your own at the same time. How would you do it? I mean, if someone had a problem and wanted to talk to you about it a little, sure. But if they went up to you _constantly_, always spilling their troubles on you, well . . ."

Erik shifted in his seat a little, seemingly trying to get into a more comfortable position. Silence once more reigned. After a few minutes had passed, Erik finally spoke up again. "I know this is a bit of an odd subject, but . . . have you . . . ever had . . . an attraction for someone?"

He was answered by the one-eyebrow raise, which made him smile slightly. "I told you that it was an odd subject."

She shrugged. "Nobody ever asked me before. If I answer you, will you promise not to repeat it to anyone else?"

"Of course," he said with the up most sincerity.

"Okay, well . . . yes, I have."

"So, you had a boyfriend?"

She paused a moment. "Well . . . no."

A look of realization came over his face. It was rather strange, for it did possess the pity she was expecting. And yet it also possessed some sort of . . . reverence, for lack of a better word.

"Oh, I'm very sorry. So, it was . . ."

Rogue nodded. "Unrequited love. Although whether it was real love I cannot say. I mean, I still like him. A lot. I really care for him, like a good friend. But I still feel . . . empty, knowing that we'll never be together."

Erik leaned forward, seeming to grow more concerned. "Why?"

"Well, he already has a girl. A _great_ girl, in his mind." The sarcasm in her voice was becoming more evident. "She's the prettiest and most talented girl in the school, and he's known her since he was a kid. The love of his life, really. For someone like me, not that talented or attractive, practically untouchable, how can I compete with that? Sometimes I feel so . . . worthless."

Her companion had a very pained look on his face. She wondered if he could actually feel the pain she felt just by thinking about it. It was a horrid, gut-wrenching feeling whenever she thought about it. Not so much that she lost this guy that she had liked so much, but that it was a sign that she wasn't good enough, that she fell short of winning a man's heart over another girl. But hey, who could compete with Jean Grey? Whatever man she picked, Rogue knew she could never win over her. That girl could have any guy she wanted. And she wanted Scott.

She hadn't even noticed the tears that had filled her eyes until her vision began to cloud up and they began to sting. She immediately grabbed her napkin and quickly dabbed them.

"Are you okay?" Erik's voice seemed a bit weak.

"Fine, fine. Just a . . . a bit of dust that got in my eyes. I'll be fine."

She hadn't been looking for sympathy. Really. He had asked her, and she answered with honesty. God, she hated it when people thought she was just looking for someone to feel sorry for her. She didn't want anyone to feel sorry for her.

She wanted someone to care about her.

"Don't ever think you're worthless," said Erik more firmly. "Just because a man chooses someone else over you doesn't mean you're worthless. They probably just fit each other better." Then he added with a slight bitterness, "Or they're making a big mistake."

"I know it's wrong, but I like to think in the latter terms." Rogue couldn't help but laugh a little. It was a foolish thought, but it was one of her few forms of comfort.

Erik let out a pained laugh. "Yes. Me too."

Rogue stopped thinking about Scott and Jean and looked at the musician. The thought had never occurred to her before, and yet now, it seemed so obvious.

"You too? You mean . . ."

"I have had my own problems with love. But such sorrows can be saved for another time."

Rogue stared at him again. He still looked like he was in pain. His brow was still furrowed, his fists a bit tensed, and she almost thought she saw a tear in one of his eyes. The idea of him being an any situation similar to hers was almost mind boggling. "I . . . I never thought . . ."

"Actually, it's a rather common thing. Do not think yourself so alone, Miss Darkholme." For the first time, he reached out and touched the tips of her fingers. She froze, staring at the connected fingertips. It was that same, electric feeling she had felt whenever they touched, even the slightest contact. Like two wires connected to the same battery, she could feel the electricity of mutual understanding flowing through. The feeling was almost surreal or supernatural. She finally permitted herself to smile, just a little, to show her gratitude.

Then she gently pulled away, for Kitty was approaching their table.

"Hey, Kurt and I have finished our snack, and we were wondering if you'd like to join us for a walk around town."

Rogue actually liked the idea of a walk. She looked over at her Erik who seemed to agree with her by the glint in his eyes. Despite his inward eagerness, he remained composed. "That's sounds good to me. What do you say, Miss Darkholme?"

Rogue turned to Kitty and nodded. "We'll be ready in a minute."

Kitty's ear-to-ear smile lit up their little dark corner for an instant, then she quickly took off to the other side of the café to tell Kurt the good news.

Rogue had only realized at that moment that neither of them had ordered anything, but in the end it did not matter, since neither of them were hungry anyway. They both stood up, pushed in their chairs and began to walk to the door. Then, suddenly, Rogue stepped in front of Erik.

"Wait. One more thing."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Yes?"

"We need to make a deal about something."

"Alright. What is it?"

"If I agree to call you Erik, will you agree to call me Rogue? It's just so odd when one of us is calling us by our formal name while the other is calling us by our first name. Either we should be on a last name basis or a first name basis. Especially if I can call you Erik."

Another sly smile came from the strange musician, and he answered. "Very well. First name basis it is."

Rogue nodded in accord, then quickly followed after Kitty and Kurt as they walked out of the café.

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Yay. Whoopee. Another chapter done. Whew. Well, hope to see ya again soon!


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